Misadventures with a Rockstar Read online

  Misadventures with a Rock Star

  Helen Hardt

  This book is an original publication of Waterhouse Press.

  * * *

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.

  Copyright © 2018 Waterhouse Press, LLC

  Cover Design by Waterhouse Press

  Cover photographs: Shutterstock

  * * *

  All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic format without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  For all the rock stars who have inspired me—Chrissie Hynde, Ann Wilson, Pat Benatar, and especially Joan Jett, plus many, many more!

  * * *

  It’s always been my secret dream to be up on stage with you.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Acknowledgments

  Don’t miss the new Blood Bond Saga!

  Excerpt from Blood Bond Saga: 1

  Q & A with Helen Hardt

  More Misadventures

  Also By Helen Hardt

  About Helen Hardt

  Chapter One

  Jett

  Janet and Lindy tongued each other in a sloppy, openmouthed kiss. Lindy, platinum-blond with fair skin, smoothed her hand over the strap of ebony-haired Janet’s soft-pink camisole before pulling it down and freeing one of her plump, dark tits. Her nipple was a deep violet, and Lindy skimmed her fingers over its tip before giving it a pinch.

  Janet let out a low moan, sucked Lindy’s bottom lip into her mouth, and released her creamy tits from the scant blue tube top she wore. They kissed each other more frantically, groaning, pinching and twisting each other’s nipples.

  “That’s hot, man,” Zane said, stroking the bulge under his jeans.

  Zane Michaels was the keyboardist for our band, Emerald Phoenix. I loved him like a brother, but he hadn’t matured past his teen years. I couldn’t deny the ladies looked great, but this wasn’t anything I hadn’t witnessed many times before.

  Lindy was now nestled between Janet’s firm thighs, her pink tongue sliding between the folds of Janet’s purple pussy. Zane looked about to explode.

  And I couldn’t have cared less.

  Oh, Janet and Lindy were hot as hell. I’d had them separately and together, and they both gave killer blowjobs and let me fuck not only their pussies but their tight asses as well. Janet loved to be handcuffed to the bed, and Lindy let me spank her as hard as I liked.

  Tonight, though? I wasn’t interested.

  Same old, same old.

  I still had my post-performance high, but I wasn’t looking for the usual orgy, despite Janet and Lindy’s show and the rest of the scantily clad groupies milling around looking for attention. A redhead was perched on the lap of Bernie Zopes, our drummer, and the backup guitarist, Tony Walker, was getting a BJ from two women who looked like they might be twins.

  Nah, couldn’t be.

  I’d already pushed a few hotties away after one shoved her tongue into my mouth and grabbed my crotch.

  “What’s with you, man?” Zane had asked.

  I hadn’t given him a response.

  Truthfully, I didn’t have one. I just wasn’t in the mood. Not for this, anyway.

  Zane passed me the joint he was smoking, but I waved it away. I no longer smoked. Bad for my voice. I’d already turned down his flask as well as the many drinks and drugs offered by the chicks in attendance. No booze. Not tonight. And I didn’t do anything harder than that.

  Not in the fucking mood.

  One more concert, and one more drug- and booze- and groupie-filled after-party.

  If anyone had told me five years ago I’d be tired of this scene, I would have laughed in his face.

  Now?

  Janet and Lindy finished their show and stood. Janet strode to Zane and unbuckled his belt, while Lindy walked toward me.

  “Hey, Jett. You have way too many clothes on.” She cupped my crotch, my lack of erection apparent. “Not happy to see me tonight?”

  “Nothing personal, sweetheart. Just not in the mood.”

  “I always did love a challenge.” She nipped at my neck.

  “This isn’t a challenge.”

  She pulled back and glared at me with her dark-blue eyes. “Everything’s a challenge. I want you tonight, and I’m going to have you.” She snaked her tongue over my bottom lip.

  Well, what the hell? Fucking Lindy was no hardship, and I didn’t have anything else pressing to do. My groin began to tighten.

  But was it because of the blonde grinding on me? Or the auburn-haired, brown-eyed goddess I caught a glimpse of across the room?

  Chapter Two

  Heather

  Several hours earlier…

  “I know you love this band,” Susie said. “Come on. Please?”

  Susie was my roommate and a good friend, but she was a notorious rock and roll groupie. The woman had a pube collection, for God’s sake. She’d sworn me to secrecy on that one. She hadn’t needed to bother. Who the heck would I tell? Pubic hair didn’t regularly come up in conversation. Also, keeping locks of rock stars’ gorilla salad in zippered bags made me kind of sick. I’d turned her down when she offered to show it to me.

  “Sorry, Suze. Just not up for it tonight.”

  “I’m so sorry Rod Hanson turned down your rewrite. But sitting around wallowing in self-pity on a Friday night won’t make it any better.”

  “And going to a concert will?”

  “A concert and an after-party. And watching Jett Draconis and Zane Michaels on stage is an experience every woman should have at least once.”

  I did love Emerald Phoenix’s music, and yes, Jett Draconis and Zane Michaels were as gorgeous as Greek gods. But…

  “Not tonight.”

  She pulled me off the couch. “Not taking no for an answer. You’re going.”

  Why was I here again?

  I stifled a yawn. Watching a couple of women do each other while others undressed, clamoring for a minute of the band’s attention, wasn’t my idea of a good time. The two women were gorgeous, of course, with tight bodies and big boobs. The contrasts in their skin and hair color made their show even more exotic. They were interesting to watch, but they didn’t do much for me sexually. May
be if I weren’t so exhausted. I’d pulled the morning and noon shifts, and my legs were aching.

  Even so, I was glad Susie had dragged me to the concert, if only to see and hear Jett Draconis live. His deep bass-baritone was rich enough to fill an opera house but had just enough of a rasp to make him the ultimate rock vocalist. And when he slid into falsetto and then back down to bass notes? Panty-melting. No other words could describe the effect. Watching him had mesmerized me. He lived his music as he sang and played, not as if it were coming from his mouth but emanating from his entire body and soul. The man had been born to perform.

  A true artist.

  Which only made me feel like more of a loser.

  Jett Draconis was my age, had hit the LA scene around the same time I had, and he’d made it big in no time. Me? I was still a struggling screenwriter working a dead-end job waiting tables at a local diner where B-list actors and directors hung out. Not only was I not an A-lister, I wasn’t even serving them. When I couldn’t sell a movie to second-rate producer Rod Hanson? I hadn’t yet said the words out loud, but the time had come to give up.

  “What are you doing hanging out here all by yourself?”

  Susie’s words knocked me out of my barrage of self-pity. For a minute anyway.

  “Just bored. Can we leave soon?”

  “Are you kidding me? The party’s just getting started.” She pointed to the two women on the floor. “That’s Janet and Lindy. Works every time. They always go home with someone in the band.”

  “Only proves that men are pigs.”

  Susie didn’t appear to be listening. Her gaze was glued on Zane, the keyboardist, whose gaze was in turn glued on the two women cavorting in the middle of the floor. She turned to me. “Let’s make out.”

  I squinted at her, as if that might help my ears struggling in the loud din. I couldn’t possibly have heard her correctly. “What?”

  “You and me. Kiss me.” She planted a peck right on my mouth.

  I stepped away from her. “Are you kidding me?”

  “It works. Look around. All the girls do it.”

  “I’m not a girl. I’m a thirty-year-old woman.”

  “Don’t you think I’m hot?” she asked.

  “Seriously? Of course you are.” Indeed, Susie looked great with her dark hair flowing down to her ass and her form-fitting leopard-print tank and leggings. “So is Angelina Jolie, but I sure as heck don’t want to make out with her. I don’t swing that way.” Well, for Angelina Jolie I might. Or Lupita Nyong’o. But that was it.

  “Neither do I—at least not long-term. But it’ll get us closer to the band.”

  “Is this what you do at all the after-parties you go to?”

  She giggled. “Sometimes. But only if there’s someone as hot as you to make out with. I have my standards.”

  Maybe I should have been flattered. But no way was I swapping spit with my friend to get some guy’s attention. They were still just men, after all. Even the gorgeous and velvet-voiced Jett Draconis, who seemed to be watching the floor show.

  Susie inched toward me again. I turned my head just in time so her lips and tongue swept across my cheek.

  “Sorry, girl. If you want to make out, I’m sure there’s someone here who will take you up on your offer. Not me, though. It would be too…weird.”

  She nodded. “Yeah, it would be a little odd. I mean, we live together and all. But I hate that you’re just standing here against the wall not having any fun. And I’m not ready to go home yet.”

  I sighed. This was Susie’s scene, and she enjoyed it. She had come to LA for the rockers and was happy to work as a receptionist at a talent agency as long as she made enough money to keep her wardrobe in shape and made enough contacts to get into all the after-parties she wanted. That was the extent of her aspirations. She was living her dream, and she’d no doubt continue to live it until her looks gave out…which wouldn’t happen for a while with all the Botox and plastic surgery available in LA. She was a good soul, but right now her ambition was lacking.

  “Tell you what,” I said. “Have fun. Do your thing. I’ll catch an Uber home.”

  She frowned. “I wanted to show you a good time. I’m sorry I suggested making out. I get a little crazy at these things.”

  I chuckled. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Please stay. I’ll introduce you to some people.”

  “Any producers or directors here?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. Mostly the band and their agents, and of course the sound and tech guys who like to try to get it on with the groupies. I doubt any film people are here.”

  “Then there isn’t anyone I need to meet, but thanks for offering.” I pulled my phone out of my clutch to check the time. It was nearing midnight, and this party was only getting started.

  “Sure I can’t convince you to stay?” Susie asked.

  “Afraid not.” I pulled up the Uber app and ordered a ride. “But have a great time, okay? And stay safe, please.”

  “I always do.” She gave me a quick hug and then lunged toward a group of girls, most of them still dressed, thank God.

  I scanned the large room. Susie and her new gaggle of friends were laughing and drinking cocktails. A couple girls were slobbering over the drummer’s dick. The two beautiful women putting on the sex show had abandoned the floor, and the one with dark skin was draped between the legs of Zane Michaels, who was, believe it or not, even prettier than she was. The other sat on Jett Draconis’s lap.

  Zane Michaels was gorgeous, but Jett Draconis? He made his keyboardist look average in comparison. I couldn’t help staring. His hair was the color of strong coffee, and he wore it long, the walnut waves hitting below his shoulders. His eyes shone a soft hazel green. His face boasted high cheekbones and a perfectly formed nose, and those lips… The most amazing lips I’d ever seen on a man—full and flawless. I’d gawked at photos of him in magazines, not believing it was possible for a man to be quite so perfect-looking—beautiful and rugged handsome at the same time.

  Not that I could see any of this at the moment, with the blonde on top of him blocking most of my view.

  I looked down at my phone once more. My driver was still fifteen minutes away. Crap.

  Then I looked up.

  Straight into the piercing eyes of Jett Draconis.

  Chapter Three

  Jett

  Eye contact.

  She was beautiful in a toned-down way. While the other women at the party were dressed in tight clothes showing lots of cleavage, she wore a pink blouse, capri jeans, and simple black sandals. Her reddish hair was tied back in a high ponytail.

  Definitely toned down.

  And that was what struck me.

  Those gorgeous eyes widened just a bit, and then she glanced down at her phone while turning and walking away.

  My cock reacted.

  Lindy had unbuttoned my shirt and was nibbling on my chest. She palmed my hard-on. “There’s the Jett I know and love.”

  Problem was, the erection wasn’t for her. I could make it work if I had to, but the beautiful woman walking away was pulling at me to follow.

  I had to meet her. Had to get to her before she got away.

  I nudged Lindy off of me. “Hey, sweetheart, I need to go.”

  “Go? What do you mean?”

  “I mean I need to go. I’m sorry.”

  I stood, and she tumbled off me. I wasn’t rude. Not usually. But blind determination swept through me. I had to meet this woman. Besides, Lindy wouldn’t go home alone. Not with all the horny dick available in this room. She would be happy to show any of them a good time. I wasn’t anything special to her. Already she was headed toward Zane and Janet.

  Though my legs wanted to run, I walked steadily toward the exit and looked around. No sign of the woman. I raced through the concert hall and outside to the street.

  She stood under a streetlight, waiting.

  I walked toward her, though I had no idea what I’d say
when I approached her.

  “Hey.”

  Damn. I wrote Grammy-winning lyrics, and all I could come up with was “hey?”

  She looked up. God, her eyes were beautiful. Big and deep-set, and the warmest brown I’d ever seen, like milk chocolate. I heated all over just looking at her, and my cock started to respond as well. I held myself in check. I didn’t want to frighten her.

  “Uh…hi,” she said.

  “Need a lift?” I asked.

  She looked over her shoulder and then back at me, meeting my gaze. “Are you talking to me?”

  I chuckled. “Who else would I be talking to, beautiful?”

  Her cheeks flushed under the harsh glow of the streetlight, and her hair looked even redder. Was she a true redhead? I shifted my gaze down her gorgeous rack to her crotch. Or maybe she shaved or waxed. Maybe that pretty pussy was right beneath her jeans.

  “My ride is coming.”

  “Who’s picking you up?”

  “Uber.”

  “I can do better than that. I’ll take you home in my limo.” I smiled.

  She fidgeted with her phone. “I…can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “For one, I don’t know you.”