The Forbidden Beat (A Stepbrother Romance) (7 page)

"OK, let's give this one to Grimm," he said.
"Now, what has Vince done for you?"

I bit my lower lip. "He got my mom off the groupie grind
and gave us a home. And for that I am grateful."

"Don't let your gratefulness cloud your
judgement," he said.

"I mean, as a stepfather, he hasn't been too bad. He's
left us alone for the most part. Fed us, clothed us, sent us to private school.
Didn't get too shitty about pulling Ds."

"When did you ever pull Ds?"

"Not me. Presley," I said.

A small smile flickered across his face before disappearing.
"Did you notice how he came rushing up here as soon as labels started
sniffing around? Watch your back with him, Nik."

I sighed. "What could he possibly do to us?"

"Steer you towards a shit deal with Grimm," he
said. "You're too talented for that. Satan's Sisters has a shot, Nik. I
don't want Vince to blow it."

My jaw dropped. Did Dion just compliment us?

"Wow, Dion, thanks but I think I know..."

Dion raked his fingers through his hair. "You don't
know, Nik. You have no idea. Grimm's not happy with Vince because of our
deal."

"How can he be unhappy? He's the one that signed that
contract," I protested.

Dion's laugh was bitter. "See, Nik, you don't know. The
lawyers negotiate, they sign. Vince had A&R by the balls. Grimm wants to
make money, and this deal...The label takes the risk, not the band. Usually
it's the other way around."

"Sounds like your dad's looking after you after
all."

 "Nothing is as it seems, Nik. Trust me," he said,
exhaustion bleeding into his voice. "Want a beer?"

"Sure," I said, happy to leave this conversation
behind.

 He opened the mini-fridge and tossed me a can of Pabst Blue
Ribbon. When I opened the can, the cheap beer sprayed all over me.

"Dammit," I swore. I smeared beer across my chest
as I wiped at it with my bare hands. "Is there a paper towel or something
around here?"

He licked his lips. "I can take care of it."

"I just need a napkin or something," I said, still
swiping the booze along my skin.

Distracted by mess, I didn't notice that Dion was stalking
towards me until he took the beer from my hand. He dipped his head and his warm
tongue flicked at my beer soaked chest.

"Dion," I said as his tongue traced the fleshy top
of my breast that peaked out of my scoop neck t-shirt. "We can't keep
doing this."

"Doing what?" he asked without stopping. He walked
me into the door behind me and locked it with his free hand. Keeping me pinned
there, that hand started to caress my body through my clothes.

"This," I sighed, my resolve weakening as his hand
slid down my ass and between my legs, the firm press of his hand against my sex
sent tingles through my body.

"No one needs to know," he said, feathering small
nips along the side of my neck.

I pressed my hands against his chest, a lame attempt to push
him away. But instead of backing off, Dion pressed his mouth on mind, and pried
my lips open with his tongue. His mouth worked against mine while his tongue
probed my mouth. I pushed against his chest again, without even less force
behind it. Because I didn't want him to stop. I wanted this.

Giving in, I pulled my t-shirt over my head, leaving me in a
bra and jeans. I felt Dion's excitement grow through his pants as he pressed
against my leg. He dropped the beer can, the booze puddling out over the dirty
concrete floor.

With both hands free, he unclasped my bra, throwing the
undergarment behind him. He groaned the sight of my breasts before taking them
with his mouth, tongue sliding over their soft curves before finding my nipple.

The more Dion touched me, the more my body lit up. As he
worked on my breasts, I kicked off my sneakers and unbuttoned my jeans and
shimmed out of them, and my underwear was next.

He released me and took a step back. His eyes worked over my
naked body, the firm rod straining against his pants revealed his excitement.
He unzipped his jeans and his cock popped out and pointed straight at me.

His eyes still stalking me, I ran a hand over my breasts. I
rolled my nipple between my thumb and index finger, sighing as pleasure built
in my body. Dion took hold of his stiff member, the movement of his firm hands
pulling at the skin, pressing it skyward.

"Take your hand and move it to your cunt," he
ordered, his voice horse. My knees went weak at his demand, the space between
my legs dampening.  

Obedient, I stepped and opened my legs wider. My other hand
slipped down my taught stomach and strayed to my neatly trimmed bush. I dipped
my finger into my warm slit, spreading the silky fluid along my swollen outer
lips. I spread my wetness up to my nub, which was peeking out from under its
hood. I gasped in pleasure as I pressed my finger against it and then moved in
tight circles.

"What do you want me to do now?" I asked,
breathless.

"You're perfect," Dion said, his eyes on me. He
pumped his cock harder.

I slid my finger along the lips, edging them inside me and
then pulling it back to my clit with a moan. Dion grabbed my wrist before I
could repeat it.

He dropped to his knees in front of me, hand squeezing his
cock. A bead of pre-cum was at the tip and he massaged it up and down his
shaft. He flicked his tongue in and out, teasing my clit while he gripped my
ass with his other hand. The teasing was driving me crazy and I pressed his
head into my crotch. He responded with a firm tongue pressing into and circling
my nub. I yelped when he plunged a finger into my pussy from behind.

He stretched open my pussy with a second finger, filling me,
and his groan of pleasure sent vibrations through my clit.

"Oh my god, Dion," I cried when he drove his
fingers into me, angling them into my G spot. I twisted my fingers into his
hair, hanging on for dear life, and pressed into him.

Intense pleasure overtook me and just as my pelvis began to
buck, Dion pulled his fingers out, leaving me empty. Then he took his mouth
away, and I whimpered.

He got to his feet and fondled my breasts. "I want you
to come while I'm inside you."

"But, Dion," I panted. The idea of feeling his
generous cock inside me turned me on, but I couldn't escape the voice in my
head that told me that this was wrong. We were wrong. "Dion, what are we
doing?"

"Do you really need me to explain this to you?" he
teased, lifting me off my feet and into his arms. He carried me to the couch
and settled me down against the moldy cushions.

"No, it's just—" I hedged.

"Give me one good reason why we can't," he said.
"We're both adults."

"But we're—" I started.

He pulled his shirt off and then kicked his jeans off the
rest of the way. He stepped out of them and I stared at the bronze god that
stood before me. My trepidation lost out to my baser instincts. I reached for
his cock and ran my tongue along the tip.

"We're what, Nik?" he asked, twisting my hair
through his fingers while I took more of him in my mouth. "Is it the
band?"

I shook my head no, wrapping my mouth around his throbbing
penis.

"Is it because of the tour?" he asked, his breath
quickening. I shook my head again, and he moaned as I took more of him into my
mouth. "Then why shouldn't we."

I removed my mouth. "You know why."

"Oh, Nik, please don't make me beg," he said,
smoothing my hair. "There are a hundred reasons why we shouldn't. I'm only
interested in the one reason that says we should."

"What reason is that?" I asked, feathering light
kisses up and down his shaft.

"That I can't think straight when you're around,"
he said. "And that when you're not around, you're still in my head. That
just once I want to feel your legs wrapped around me, to feel me inside you. No
regrets."

I bit my lip, resting my cheek on his thigh. "So we
just have to get this out of our systems?"

"Come on, Nik. We can't keep lying to ourselves."

I closed my eyes. Just once. Just this once. I wanted keep
up the lie because I didn't think I'd be able to get him out of my system.
Ever.

"Oh god," Dion cried when I wrapped my mouth
around his cock again, taking as much as I could. There was no way I'd be able
to take all of him, so I massaged the base of his cock with my hand while my
mouth worked the rest.

His breath quickened and he pulled at hair, stopping my
mouth from moving down the shaft again.

"I don't want to come yet," he said, and I
reluctantly released him from my mouth.

He dropped to the seat next to me and fumbled in his jeans,
pulling out a condom. He straddled me onto his lap. He gripped the back of my
neck and pulled my mouth to his and kissed me long and deep, his tongue
exploring my mouth. I could taste my musk on his lips, and I wiggled against
his leg, rubbing my juices against him.

He ripped the condom open, and I watched him stretch the
latex along his rigid penis, my pussy soaked.

"God I want to fuck you," he whispered, lifting me
by my hips.

My pussy brushed against this cock and he pushed the tip in,
taking care to go slowly as he stretched my hole with his wide shaft. For a
moment, I wondered if I would be able to all of take him. But then, with a
gasp, I slipped down his length. His cock filled me, the tip pressed against
the inner wall of my vagina, hitting the spongy g-spot just right.

"Oh, Dion," I moaned as I rocked my hips against
his. "What are we doing?"

"It's so wrong," he agreed, taking a nipple in his
mouth and swirling his tongue around it. He pushed his hips up to meet mine,
plunging deeper into me.

"We can't," I breathed.

"God, Nik, you are so wet for me," he moaned
around a mouthful of my breast. "Does being naughty makes you wet?"

"Yes," I whispered, digging my nails into his back
as pressed his thumb against my clit. "Oh God. Yes."

"I want you to come all over my cock," he said.
His thumb made firm circles around my clit, and I felt my orgasm building.

"I'm almost there," I told him before my eyes
rolled back I was caught up in waves of pleasure. My back arched. I pressed my
breasts into his face, and my pussy spasmed around his cock. I collapsed onto
his chest.

"You're not done yet," he whispered into my ear,
and I pressed my pelvis into his in response.

"Oh, Nikki, yes, just like that," he said as I
moved my pussy up and down his shaft. He gripped my ass with both hands and
moved my hips faster and faster, his breathing matching the thrusts, until he
cried out. I felt his cock pulse inside me as he came into the sheath. We
rested for a moment, his head against my chest, mine on his head.

"We should probably clean up," he said. "The
bands playing tonight will be coming in for sound check soon."

We both avoided each other while we pulled our clothes on.
It wasn't until I put on my shoes that I ventured a glance towards him.

"Now what?" I asked, knotting my sneakers.

"Like we said, it's out of our system," he said
with a shrug. He unlocked the door. "See you around, sis."

I slumped down into the couch, wishing the cushions would
swallow me up. I was an idiot, a fool. The room still thick with the smell of
sex, a reminder that I was weak, giving into my stepbrother's lies and
manipulations. I fought back the tears welling up in my eyes, feeling like a
fool.

"Never again," I whispered, dabbing at my eyes
with the edge of my t-shirt. "Never again."

CHAPTER TEN

"Where the hell is this boy?" Devlin griped.

Rafe plucked at his bass guitar. "He's never been to a
sound check on time in his life."

"But this late?" Devlin said, glancing at his
watch one more time.

"Dion had a late night," he lied, going on the
defensive for his brother. The truth was, Dion never made it back to the bus
last night. I spent most of it tossing and turning, waiting for him to show up.
The only thing that kept us all from outright panicking was that Rafe had a few
barely coherent texts from him. And my anger towards Dion grew proportionally
to the snippets from those texts that Rafe shared.

"It's three in the afternoon," Devlin deadpanned.
"I don't give a shit how late he was out. You get your ass to sound check
on time."

"We can sound check again," Presley called from
her barstool. She and Jett were chilling at the bar on the club's mezzanine
level, which looked down on the stage. "You know, in case the sound guy
wants something to do."

Even though I couldn't see her, I was certain she winked at
the sound guy. And I was grateful at her attempt to diffuse the situation with
some mild flirtation. The sound guy did not look happy behind all his monitors.
And if the sound guy's not happy, there's a 99.9 percent chance that the band
will sound like shit.

"Satan's Sluts do not get any extra sound checks,"
Dion slurred as he staggered into the venue, front door slamming behind him. An
open can of beer in hand, the remainder of the six pack dangled from his other
hand. "They don't get any extra anything."

Dion stood in the middle of the club, his sunglasses still
on, still in yesterday's clothes except they were rumpled. He and looking like
a first rate asshole. All eyes were on him. The sound guy was shooting him
daggers.

He shrugged. "What? Am I'm late?"

Devlin went on the attack. "This is some straight up
sort of bull shit right here. Yes, you are late."

Dion still didn't remove his shades. "Long night."

"Boy, you are done with the partying on this
tour," Devlin laid into him, grabbing the six pack ring to take the beer
away from him.

Dion yanked the beer back. Then he got right up in Devlin's
face and jabbed a finger into the older man's chest. "You work for me. You
don't tell me what to do. So sit the fuck down and shut up, old man."

"Grimm Records cuts my paycheck and Gary Grimm gave me
the authority to whip your ass. So while this tour is bankrolled by Grimm, you
listen to me," Devlin said, not backing down.

My drums being my line of defense against anxiety, I bit my
bottom lip and softly tapped out a rhythm. Dion and Devlin at each other's
throats wasn't a good sign. Under my breath, I hummed Rogue Nation's song
Ruined to the beat.

Dion rounded on me. "Did I say it was time to start
sound check?"

"God, Dion, I'm just fiddling," I said, tapping it
out again. "I've got a beat stuck in my head."

"Fiddling?" he yelled. "It sounds like you
were playing Ruined with the wrong goddam beat."

I shrugged. "It sounds cool."

"Ruined off tempo does not sound cool," he railed.
"Ruined moves at the speed of light. Ruined is speed metal. Ruined is
ruined when you slow it down. Like a fucking girl."

"What the hell, Dion," I argued. "I was just
messing around. Like a fucking drummer."

"You don't mess around with my song!"

 "My god, Dion, dictator much?" I spat back at
him.

"Let's sound check this bitch," he grumbled,
picking up his guitar. "You're not wearing that tonight, are you?"

I glanced down at my outfit —a pair of black skinny jeans
and an old Tom Petty sleeveless concert tee. It was my favorite drumming
outfit. "What's wrong with it?"

"I told you to show more skin," he leered at me.
"No one can see your tits bouncing when you pound."

I bristled. "I'm behind a drum kit, in the back. No one
can see me at all."

"I can," he mouthed at me while he launched into a
loud guitar riff, leaving Rafe scrambling to catch up. Dion warbled into the
microphone, his mouth too close, causing a loop of feedback that the sound guy
rushed to correct.

Dion's guitar riffs came to a sudden stop playing, leaving
me and Rafe once again playing catchup. Our sounds petered out and all eyes
were back on Dion.

He exploded again, this time at the sound guy. "Don't
you know how to run a fucking sound board?"

The sound guy immediately cut the power to the mics.
"Fuck you, Davis. I'm not your bitch."

The sound good stood up, and I cringed. He was a full 6 feet
plus inches and built like a linebacker. Dion took a long pull from his beer.
Liquid courage.

"Don't piss off the sound guy," I hissed at him.

"You know what you should use your mouth for?" he
growled. "Sucking cock, not speaking."

"Hold on there, boy, that's crossing a line,"
Devlin hollered. "You watch your tongue."

Dion took that literally, and rapidly licked the air in my
direction.

"You're an asshole when your drunk," I said.

"He's an asshole when he's sober," Devlin replied.

Dion took another swig from his can then tossed it in the
general direction of the sound guy. The toss was so feeble that it didn't even
make it half way to its intended target.

"Crap," I said as Dion gripped the microphone
stand to stay upright and hiccupped. "Do you need a doctor or
something?"

"He gets no doctor," Devlin raged. "He reaps
what he sows."

"I'd rather he not barf on stage," I said.

"I'm not going to barf—" Dion started, and then
swallowed. He looked green.

Devlin jumped into action and pulled Dion by his shirt away
from the stage, and the expensive equipment. "Shit. You get your ass into
the bathroom. I'll call the damn doctor. Your father is going to skin you alive
when he hears about this. And maybe me too," Devlin said. A string of
curse words followed the two of them into the bathroom.

"Can they sober him up fast enough for tonight's
gig?" Presley asked once they stumbled out of earshot.

"I don't know," Rafe said.

"They'll probably IV drip him," Jett said, barely
looking up from her book. She used a pen light to read in the dark club.

"An IV drip can sober you up?" Rafe asked.

"Yup, with saline." Jett replied. "And
they'll probably include an anti-nausea med in it. Since he's barfing."

"How do you know all this?" Rafe asked.

Jett shrugged. "College. Freshman can't handle their
alcohol."

"So college is good for something," Rafe teased.
Jett leveled a nasty look at him.

I glanced at Studio Seven's sound guy, arms crossed and
glaring. "Maybe we should just continue sound check without him."

"I'd recommend that," the sound guy said.

"Agreed," Rafe said. "My voice can get his
levels close enough."

"Let's get this done then," cranky sound guy
ordered.

"What do you want to check with?" I asked.

Rafe started plucking out the bass chords for Ruined.
"But do that slow tempo," he said, flashing me a fast smile. "It
sounded cool."

Pride swelled in my chest. I loved arranging music, working
with tempo. So for someone to complement one of my ideas—particularly another
musician, even if it was Rafe—was cool. I grinned and tapped at my drums,
slowing the song down. Rafe tried to match the new beat, but he kept getting
tripped up. I jumped in on vocals, although I was risking the ire of the
already irritated sound guy.

Ruin me, ruin you

All our bodies want do

Your caress sets me on fire

Falling prey to base desires

Damning me to love you still

Even while you wreck me 

Ruined.

Presley and Jett jumped to their feet and burst into
applause.

"Bravo," Presley called from the bar. "It's
like a torch song now."

"I like it way better than that speed metal
version," Jett agreed. "And now you can actually make out the
lyrics!"

"And those lyrics are pretty good," Presley said.
"Did Dion write it?"

Rafe nodded. "Yup, and he's gonna be pissed about the
new tempo."

"Fuck him," Presley said. "You should totally
play it like that tonight."

"I agree," Vince said, applauding as he came out
from the dark vestibule. "And where is Dion? Nik?"

I played a light rat-a-tat-tat on my cymbal and tried to
shrink back into shadow. "That's up to Rafe to tell you." Rafe
flashed me an imploring look. Vince was going to go bananas when he heard.
"I'm just the hired gun. Remember?"

"I've got no problem telling him what Dion's been up
to," Presley said. She stomped down the stairs from the mezzanine level.
With her hands on her hips, confronted our stepfather with the Presley-level
confidence that I envied. "Dion went on a major bender last night. And
Devlin is trying to sober him up in some shitty bathroom in this shitty
club."

"Oy! Still here," the sound man shouted.

"Sorry," Presley shouted back before turning back
to Vince. "What I'm getting at is that Dion is a hot mess and I want to
know what you're going to do about it."

Vince's words were cold and measured. "What I'm going
to do about it?"

"Why do you even care?" Rafe snapped.

This time, it was Jett yelling. "Because we want this
for Nikki. And you both treat her like a goddamn outsider so she won't speak
up. But I know you feel the same way as her."

Rafe opened his mouth to say something but snapped it shut
right away.

"That's what I thought," Presley said with a
smirk.

"That's not fair," Rafe said to Jett. "Not at
all."

"But it's true," Jett said, marching down the
stairs to confront him.

"Presley. Jett," I said, standing up from behind
my drum kit, looking between the two of them.

"No, Nik, I will not shut up," Jett fumed.
"There is nobody in this room who loves music more than you."

"Well—" Presley started.

"Pres, you are a great singer and an excellent front-woman,
but you do not love music—music, not fame—more than Nik."

Presley shrugged. "You were the first to pick up an
instrument."

"Presley and me, we kind of just did it because we were
around it all the time," she said. "But you, Nik, this is your
passion."

"She's right," Devlin said, coming back into the
room. He was drying his hand on a paper towel. "Ace loved giving you drum
lessons because you were so damn into it."

"Where's Dion?" Vince asked.

"He's not feeling 100 percent."

Vince's face turned red with anger. "I am going to rip
this kid a new asshole."

Devlin stepped in front of Vince and touched his arm
lightly. "I already did. And I think he got the message loud and
clear."

"I have passion too you know," he said to no one
in particular. He plucked at his bass and sulked.

"Everyone in this room as the passion," I said, my
voice barely above a whisper.

"But not like you, kid," Devlin said, shooting me
a grin.

I chewed my lower lip. I hated it when Presley and Jett
talked up my passion and talked down their own. I knew Jett wanted to go to
college and Presley just saw her voice her way into something that resembled a
multinational corporation rather than a band. But it was nice being in the band
together. I shivered thinking about how Satan's Sisters felt like the only
thing that kept us together these days. Particularly after I moved out of the
house. If we didn't have the band, we'd probably barely see each other.

Dion stumbled out from the bathroom, his hue still a bit on
the green sign.

"Hey, dad, what's up?" Dion mumbled. He staggered
to the edge of the stage and sat down.

Vince balled up his fists. "I get you the deal of a
lifetime and this is how you handle it?" Vince seethed.

"Do we have to do this now, Dad?"

"When do you suggest we do it?" Vince asked, his
voice raising.

Dion groaned and dropped his head in his hands. "Maybe
when the room isn't spinning so much."

"This is an embarrassment," Vince railed.
"This entire tour is an embarrassment."

Rafe took a step forward to confront his father. "What
are you talking about? The tour's been good."

"When the opening, unsigned act behaves more
professionally, and creates more buzz, than the headliner? That's an
embarrassment."

"Oh fuck off," Dion muttered.

"I will not fuck off," Vince snapped. "After your
escapades with the groupie in San Francisco, you guys are a laughing stock.
Satan's Sisters is the only reason why the industry is taking this tour seriously.
Don't think Grim hasn't noticed."

I winced at Vince's words. Dion's response was to lay down
on the filthy stage and curl into the fetal position. Dion was in no shape to
process what his dad was saying. This wasn't constructive.