Pulse: BBW Contemporary Rock Star Romance Read online

  Contents

  Copyright Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Enjoy Sexy Shifters?

  Want More Paranormal Romance?

  Desire Some Bisexual Cowboys?

  Like Bad Boy Romances?

  Craving a Saucy Demon Billionaire?

  Lust for Sexy Vampires?

  PULSE: BBW CONTEMPORARY ROCK STAR ROMANCE

  Blair Aaron

  Copyright 2015 Blair Aaron

  All rights reserved.

  Blair Aaron

  Pulse:

  (BBW Contmeporary Rock Star Romance)

  First Edition

  Book design by Blair Aaron

  Cover Image Copyright 2016, used under a Creative Commons Attribution License

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  CHECK OUT AN EXCERPT

  CHAPTER 1

  The crowd pulsed and groaned like some sort of post-gothic hive mind, dressed in an abundance of black with the occasional head of bright pink or green hair. A monolithic stage covered by heavy curtains rose far above the ocean of expectant fans. Scaffolding around the edges held the lights and pyrotechnics that lingered in the crowd's imagination, faintly warning them the explosions would burst into violent action.

  Alyssa, dressed also in black and having recently dyed her hair the same, stood at the back of the crowd on a small rise from which the whole amphitheater was visible. Her skin was powdered white and her lips a deep shade of red. A black top was tucked into a short red plaid skirt that exhibited her long legs. She pulled on her cigarette and waited in heady anticipation for the moment the curtains would pull apart.

  “Hey,” a voice said from behind. A woman of roughly the same age with dusty blonde hair and an assortment of rings and studs on her lips and eyebrows stood behind Alyssa, who smiled when she saw her familiar face.

  “Jane, oh my god!” The two embraced and smiled at one another. Behind Jane, a tall man with a stone-faced expression stood waiting for her to introduce her. He wore a band t-shirt with the type of logo that was so damned metal that the text was illegible.

  “This is my boyfriend Ron,” Jane said, waving him over. Alyssa waved at him. He raised his chin slightly in reply.

  “I didn't know you were coming!” said Alyssa.

  “Neither did I, till this morning.”

  “Well, I'm glad you're here. I thought I'd be watching the show alone.”

  Jane chuckled. She looked behind her at the various food vendors, sizing up the line. “Show's about to start, shall we grab a drink?”

  Alyssa bit her lip. “You go,” she said, “I'll meet you back here.”

  “Don't be stupid, it's on me,” Jane said.

  Alyssa sighed, then looked to the stage where a ball of furious potential energy was forming, then to the long queue leading away from the bar. “Alright,” Alyssa said, shrugging, “Are you sure?”

  “Of course!”

  ________________

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  Our publishing company offers short stories and novels in various genres. As a courtesy, we have included several bonus works from various genres, which you might be interested in. Please take the time, if you’re so inclined, to check out our website as well.

  IF YOU’RE INTERESTED IN…

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  Alpha Male Bisexual/MM Romance

  The Stetson Series, by Candy Collins (49,000 words) - included*

  Gender Swap Horror Erotica

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  Hotwife Menage, Wife Swapping Erotica

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  CHAPTER 1

  The crowd pulsed and groaned like some sort of post-gothic hive mind, dressed in an abundance of black with the occasional head of bright pink or green hair. A monolithic stage covered by heavy curtains rose far above the ocean of expectant fans. Scaffolding around the edges held the lights and pyrotechnics that lingered in the crowd's imagination, faintly warning them the explosions would burst into violent action.

  Alyssa, dressed also in black and having recently dyed her hair the same, stood at the back of the crowd on a small rise from which the whole amphitheater was visible. Her skin was powdered white and her lips a deep shade of red. A black top was tucked into a short red plaid skirt that exhibited her long legs. She pulled on her cigarette and waited in heady anticipation for the moment the curtains would pull apart.

  “Hey,” a voice said from behind. A woman of roughly the same age with dusty blonde hair and an assortment of rings and studs on her lips and eyebrows stood behind Alyssa, who smiled when she saw her familiar face.

  “Jane, oh my god!” The two embraced and smiled at one another. Behind Jane, a tall man with a stone-faced expression stood waiting for her to introduce her. He wore a band t-shirt with the type of logo that was so damned metal that the text was illegible.

  “This is my boyfriend Ron,” Jane said, waving him over. Alyssa waved at him. He raised his chin slightly in reply.

  “I didn't know you were coming!” said Alyssa.

  “Neither did I, till this morning.”

  “Well, I'm glad you're here. I thought I'd be watching the show alone.”

  Jane chuckled. She looked behind her at the various food vendors, sizing up the line. “Show's about to start, shall we grab a drink?”

  Alyssa bit her lip. “You go,” she said, “I'll meet you back here.”

  “Don't be stupid, it's on me,” Jane said.

  Alyssa sighed, then looked to the stage where a ball of furious potential energy was forming, then to the long queue leading away from the bar. “Alright,” Alyssa said, shrugging, “Are you sure?”

  “Of course!”

  CHAPTER 2

  After a decent time spent waiting in line, the three of them left the drinks stand each with two red solo cups in hand. Alyssa resumed her spot on the hill, but Jane ushered them further down into the crowd. The tangle of bodies created a wall of heat, of unbreathable air. Alyssa hated being elbow-to-elbow with sweaty strangers, but loved Crucible of Lucifer that much more and would walk through hell to see them live. So she decided to grin and bear it.

  Jane directed them deeper and deeper into the fray, pushing people aside with a confidence and gusto that Alyssa would not have managed on her own. Before long they were two or three heads from the front.

  “This is better!” said Jane, lighting a cigarette and holding it at an awkward angle so as to not singe the gentleman’s afro in front of her.

  Alyssa nodded, taking a swill from one of her cups. “Thanks for the drinks, by the
way.”

  Jane gave a care-free shrug. “I know you're kinda hard-up at the moment, I gotcha.” Her friend's concern warmed Alyssa's heart. Just as she was standing there feeling happy for a night no longer lonely but now in the company of friends, the sound of a deep and penetrating bass drum surged through the crowd. It was so loud and so thick that it vibrated every muscle in her body and stirred the butterflies in her gut. The sound of the drums came slowly at first; dum-dum, silence, dum-dum, silence, dum-DUM-dum, like some tribal chant calling the crowd to a foreign place it knew was home.

  When the curtains began their swift glide apart, the crowd roared. Jane shot Alyssa an excited grin and Ron put his arm around her. At first, the stage was dark, but the silhouettes outlined the five band members against the artificial smoke pouring from machines on either side. The bass rhythm continued as teenage stand hands wearing the band's infamous logo pulled the curtains aside. And then, complete silence fell over the stage, then spreading throughout the crowd.

  There were gasps in the crowd, but all else was quiet. Then the drummer made a metronome of his cymbal and timed the others in. Suddenly guitars wailed, drums crashed and an explosion of orange light washed over the stage and illuminated the band members. The screams from the crowd split Alyssa's ears.

  “I love you Ian!” came not one but six voices, directed at the lead singer who sidled slowly up to the mic with a relaxed smile.

  “Good evening you crazy fuckers,” he said with a charming slur over the rhythmic crashing of the band, “How are you tonight?”

  A stupendous exclamation sounded from the crowd. The collective yells were piercing, sharp. Jane leaned into Alyssa to whisper, “God he's so fuckin' hot.”

  Alyssa laughed, shrugged. Her eyes were on Callum, the lead guitarist, whose shoulder-length grey-brown hair hung free and framed his face against a tight beard.

  “This song's called Oxytocin.” said Ian, immediately spinning around to face his band members and nod his head in time as the opening riff began.

  The music was fast and cutting, giving off a quality of adrenaline and senseless violence. Towards the front, the crowd parted to create a pit in which thirty or forty revelers thrashed about, throwing their limbs around like weapons. They crashed into each other and away from each other, tossing their weight around in a mindless trance. For the most part, they were skinheads, peppered with a few less strikingly rough-types, all in a fugue-state as they launched about in a blur.

  Jane and Alyssa jumped up and down where they stood, partly to the music and partly to avoid being trampled by the pulsating crowd that heaved in all around them. At the apex of every jump, Alyssa caught a breath of fresh air away from the conglomeration of body heat. Her hair fell over her face and launched up again, only to fall back down. She watched Callum with wild fixation through her hair-covered field of view. He stood three paces to the left of front-man Ian, tall and lanky but with strongly defined arms boasted out of a long black singlet. His guitar, a cherry-red Gibson SG, hung low by his crotch and swung from side to side as his body moved with the amphetamine energy of the music.

  Ron stood completely still, a tall spire in an ocean. The look on his face betrayed him. A gentle nodding of the head indicated enjoyment but the look on his face was all jealousy. He saw the way his girlfriend watched the curious movements of Ian, the exotic lead.

  And the drummer moved so fast that you couldn't be sure he was even there. It was as though the band had employed a rapid wave of light instead of a human. He banged his head and smashed his sticks against the kit with masterful speed, a voodoo curse putting him under some unknown spell. He held the rhythm perfectly, and the swift roll of the double-kick echoed into the night sky far beyond the open-air stadium.

  Alyssa stood still for a moment. She planted her heels into the ground and steeled against the throbbing weight of the crowd to swallow down both drinks and toss the empty plastic cups aside. In the intervals between the jumps of the man in front, the one with the afro, she saw Callum shredding away.

  Ian writhed about the stage in a fervor, his mannerisms akin to Jack Sparrow on bath salts. Saliva sprayed from his lips like rain over the microphone. But behind him Callum stood coolly, calmly, eyes closed and lower lip bit. His head bounced and grooved, the notes he was hitting seemed to reverberate through his body before they even reached the amplifier. He gave Alyssa the impression of a guru who decided on a whim to grace the crowd with his presence. He kept up with the insane pace of the music without appearing as though he tried. There was a reserved appreciation in his eyes as he looked out over the throng of fans. He dug the vibe, but he wasn't letting it get to him. Alyssa had never felt so excited, so mesmerized, in her life. “Ian's cool,” she whispered to Jane, “But are you seeing that guitarist?”

  Jane gave Alyssa a quick grin. She looked briefly at her boyfriend, who was distracted, and came in close again. “I know where he's staying tonight,” Jane said.

  “What? Really?”

  Jane nodded, tutting at the cigarette between her lips. Slack-jawed, Alyssa looked to Callum and then back to her friend.

  “He's at The Vine,” Jane said. Alyssa gave her a puzzled look. “You know, the hotel on sixth?”

  “Oh!”

  Jane returned her attention to Ron as though she'd never said a thing, cuddling into the tall and motionless man's chest. From the alcove between his torso and his tightening arm, Jane gave Alyssa a suggestive nod.

  The song wound to a close and the crowd cheered. Ian wiped sweat from his brow and slapped a hand against Callum's shoulder. The lead-guitarist smiled.

  “Thank you,” said Ian, “Thanks. It's good to be here, we've been looking forward to this show all tour.” The crowd lost it. There were wolf-whistles and throat-slicing shouts. The thrashing bodies in the pit came to a standstill, each of them puffing and panting and patting each other on the back. The rhythm guitarist plucked an ambient tune as Ian caught his breath behind the mic. “It can be a bit crazy,” said Ian, “Traveling from city to city, seeing hundreds and thousands of faces each night. But you know what, Crucible of Lucifer has the best fuckin' fans in the world.” Still more yells and whoops and screams.

  “I'm serious,” he spat to the left of him, “Serious. Everywhere we go we meet people who love what we do, love us. And we love ya's too. Honest to god, we're all strangers to each other but we're here for the love of the same thing. And there's a real trust there, a knowing. We're clicked on to the same frequency, man, I love it.”

  A homogeneous muttering spread over the audience. People nodded and talked and laughed, each single pocket of conversation mixing into a pleased drone.

  “The next song we're gunna play for you lot is a new one, off our upcomin' album. We hope you like it, it's called Cake-face Cadaver.”

  The drummer brought his sticks down on the crash cymbals in short, swift bursts. Callum kicked in with a chunky riff, and the song exploded into sudden existence. The pit gained momentum once more and the still crowd resumed bouncing. This second song was meatier, it chugged along with a slightly slower tempo beneath vocals that were, this time, faster and higher-pitched. From the few words, Alyssa could make out, the song seemed to be about a woman who was not the person she presented herself as being. It was obvious that the song was pulled from one of Ian's experiences with a lover.

  Crucible of Lucifer shook the amphitheater for another hour-and-a-half, rattling the crowd—and their brains—so that, by the end of it all, the patrons walked away with a throbbing headache, ready for a soft bed and a good night's rest.

  CHAPTER 3

  Outside the gates, Alyssa stood smoking cigarettes with Jane and Ron. They recounted their personal highlights of the show and discussed their impressions of the band's forthcoming album. Alyssa tried to play along like she was interested, but the whole time, she could do nothing but fantasize about naked Callum. On the outside, Alyssa probably seemed to passers-by calm and collected, but inside her, a heat, a fire, grew wil
d and uncontrollable for that drummer. She wondered what his apartment looked like, particularly his bedroom. Once their smokes were spent, they moved onto the street to head out.

  “Let's go to The Vine,” said Alyssa, “Meet the guys.” She tried to sound casual like she didn't care.

  Jane's eyes flashed excitement, reading Alyssa completely, but she gritted her teeth. Ron leaned down to whisper something in her ear. She looked at Alyssa with bad news. “You know, I think we're just going to go back to our hotel.”

  Alyssa shot daggers at Ron. “Fine. I'll text you.”

  “Cool. Have fun!”

  Jane and Ron left, his protective arm around her. Alyssa broke out of the masses to hail an approaching cab, and she told the driver to head straight for the hotel on sixth. When the cab arrived, late at night as it was, the receptionists at The Vine were tucked away in the staffroom somewhere, rather than manning the lobby as they should have been. Confident that she had left before the band, Alyssa took her opportunity to sit unquestioned at the couches by the entrance. Looking around the hotel's entrance and lobby where the 20-somethings hung out, she could tell this was the place where people crossed into the shadows of their minds, where they experimented and tried things they wouldn't otherwise consider at any other time. This was the place when the band member's let loose and crossed forbidden lines and did things they didn't mention the next day.

  She pulled her skirt as far up as she could, and tugged down on her top so that her apple-round breasts protruded from her tight black top. In the reflection of the lobby window she made sure that her hair was neat and her lipstick intact, and took out her phone to appear occupied while she waited for the rock-star to arrive. She didn't want to seem desperate.