Rock My Love: A Steamy Standalone Instalove Romance Read online

  CONTENTS

  Rock My Love

  NEWSLETTER

  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

  Epilogue

  Extended Epilogue

  Extended Epilogue

  Extended Epilogue

  NEWSLETTER

  A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS

  BRATVA BEAR SHIFTERS

  LAIRDS & LADIES

  RUSSIAN UNDERWORLD

  IRISH WOLF SHIFTERS

  Collaborations

  About the Author

  ROCK MY LOVE

  AN OLDER MAN YOUNGER WOMAN ROMANCE

  _______________________

  A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS, 282

  FLORA FERRARI

  Copyright © 2022 by Flora Ferrari

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The following story contains mature themes, strong language and sexual situations. It is intended for mature readers.

  ROCK MY LOVE

  I’ve had a crush on Aaron Blaze for years.

  He’s tall and earth-shatteringly handsome, with silver peppered hair and a muscular body covered in tattoos.

  But he doesn’t know I exist. And, even if he did, he wouldn’t look twice at me.

  He’s a multimillionaire, one of the most successful music artists in the world. He’s got hordes of adoring fans. At forty-two he’s an experienced alpha heartthrob.

  And I’m… me.

  Nineteen. A curvy virgin. Never even had a real boyfriend.

  But when my dad sneaks me backstage to watch one of his shows, Aaron spots me.

  I can hardly believe it when he kisses me, all my dreams coming true.

  “Wait for me,” he demands, in a husky tone.

  I tell him I will, but then father drags me from the arena.

  It turns out my dad and Aaron were friends once upon a time. But not anymore.

  Now they’re enemies.

  He says I have to stay away from the rockstar.

  But I don’t think I can.

  When Aaron finds me, my whole world changes.

  “You belong to me now. I’m claiming you, every single inch.”

  But what is my dad going to do when he finds out?

  * Rock My Love is an insta-everything standalone instalove romance with a HEA, no cheating, and no cliffhanger.

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  CHAPTER ONE

  Billie

  “Dad, you’re the best.” I throw my arms around his shoulders and give him a tight squeeze. “I can’t believe it. Aaron Blaze. I’m going to see Aaron freaking Blaze!”

  Dad laughs and backs away, hands raised, grinning over at my mom. “Help me. She’s going crazy over that rockstar.”

  I shake my head, smiling, but there’s no denying the truth of it.

  I’ve been obsessed with Aaron Blaze ever since I was a teenager. I’m nineteen now, almost twenty, working as a waitress, and I never would’ve had enough money to go to his concert in the city.

  But dad works as a janitor at the arena. He’s going to get me in.

  Mom tsks from the kitchen divider, a bright towel over her shoulder as she angrily kneads some dough.

  “I think it’s a bad idea. For the record. If anybody is interested.”

  “Mom, why?”

  “Why? Why?” She’s kneading the dough like it owes her money now. “Because it risks your father’s job. We’re living hard enough as it is.”

  “Janet.”

  Mom looks up. “Andy.”

  “This is something she wants. It’ll be easy, and it’s almost her birthday. Let’s do something to make our daughter happy, instead of complaining about money all the time.”

  Mom raises her hands, dusting them off. “Fine, do it your way. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Dad turns to me with his eyebrows raised, a soft smile on his lips. He and my mom are built differently from me, tall and wiry, whereas I’m the opposite. Dad’s hair is a wild ring around his bald pate giving him the look of a mad professor.

  “Shall we go?” Dad asks.

  “She was really annoyed,” I say as we settle into the car.

  “She’s just looking out for us.”

  “Is it that much of a risk? I don’t want to put your job at risk, Dad.”

  “No, no, it’s fine. I promise. Are you excited?”

  Part of me niggles at how easily I accept his explanation. But mom and dad have been arguing about money for as long as I can remember. They always make up in the end, dad sometimes making extravagant romantic gestures involving rose petals and candles. They’re a good example of what a marriage can be, solid, trusting, and loyal.

  Maybe that’s my excuse, as I let my mind drift over to Aaron Blaze.

  “Yes, I’m excited.”

  Aaron is a towering inferno of a man at forty-three. My whole body warms just thinking about his six foot six frame, rippling with muscle, his silver hair cut long at the top and buzzed at the side, his tattoo-covered muscled arms on display in a black leather vest. I love his energy, he gets so freaking worked up on stage, looking like a wild man. He’s...

  “Billie, we’re here.”

  I look across the street at the arena. Lights flash softly at the entrance, and people walk from cars in droves, spilling into the doorway. Dad puts his hand on my back and nods in the opposite direction, towards the dumpsters and an alleyway.

  “Sorry about this.”

  “Dad, it’s fine.”

  He grins. “People forget. To have all that fancy stuff you need people like me trudging through the filth to make it shiny.”

  “I know, Dad,” I say in a slightly peeved tone.

  It’s probably rude of me to take this tone with him.

  But since I’m awkwardly stepping over a spilled trash bag, I’m not in the mood to listen to one of his rants. He gives me his hand and we approach a door. Dad takes out a key and fiddles with it, the metal rasping.

  “Always sticks, this thing. Here we go.”

  With a click, we’re in, and he leads me down a hallway. My heart is hammering so hard. I draw in a slow breath, but it becomes all ragged.

  Aaron Blaze, in the flesh, so close I could run out on stage and grab onto his arm if I wanted. I’m all fidgety, my mind taking me to places I can’t think about right now. Not with dad here, not in public.

  Those fantasies are for the nights when I’m sore and tired from a nine-hour shift and I drop into bed. My thought
s fill with Aaron then, his towering silhouette appearing over my bed, leaning down and kissing me gruffly as his hot breath paints my skin.

  A rough hand glides up my thigh, slow at first, and then primal, urgent, as he slips his finger into my—

  I forcibly stop my thoughts, keeping a neutral smile on my face. I can’t stop thinking about him.

  Dad takes us to an area backstage, everyone bustling around. He guides us to an area off to the side, out of the flow of the foot traffic. “Now we just stay here. Anyone asks I’m here to help with the stage clear-up between performances.”

  “What should I say if they ask why I’m here?” I’m wringing my hands now, my palms sweaty.

  “They won’t.”

  “But if they do?”

  “Hell.” Dad scratches at his bald head. “I guess I’ll just tell them it’s bring your daughter to work day.”

  I laugh, despite the nerves fluttering in my belly. Dad shifts from foot to foot as the lights begin to dim and a cheer works its way through the stadium.

  I have a side-on view, but it feels like the best seat in the house as the speakers start to thrum. The music moves through me and expands in my chest, pumping in time with my hunger to see him, Aaron Blaze, the man of my fantasies.

  I lock my hands over my belly, as my truly silly dreams light me up. I imagine my belly swelling with his child, his hand laid lovingly on the growing bump, a soft smile on his savage lips as he leans in to gently kiss my cheek. I feel the love swelling within until it becomes me, and then I let it all go.

  It's so stupid.

  Aaron Blaze wouldn’t even look at me, much less be attracted to me, much less want me forever.

  I’ve been writing too many love songs, bad crappy trashy songs that reveal how much I’ve been obsessing over Aaron.

  Suddenly the drums start, pounding through the arena, and then a spotlight appears on stage and there he is.

  He’s wearing faded and torn jeans, and chunky brown boots. His customary leather vest covering his rippled chest, his hands raised to the sky, each muscle on his arm outlined in the bright lights. I’m sure I can even see the beads of sweat on his hot skin as he holds the pose.

  “I have to go,” Dad whispers.

  “What? Why?” I ask him, but I can’t look away from Aaron.

  “I didn’t enable the security system when we came in. I have to go. I’m sorry. Just wait here. I’ll be back.”

  “Okay, Dad. That’s fine.”

  I hardly hear anything he says. Everything has shrunk down to this moment. All I can see is Aaron as the guitars strum, and he softly lowers his hand to the mic and lets out a husky note.

  “Woman of my dreams.”

  A shiver runs down my spine as I hear his voice in real life. I didn’t even know that was possible, but everything is trembling. My body is on fire.

  His voice, his real life voice.

  “But you were never...”

  He breaks off, doing that croaking thing I’ve replayed so many times. Sometimes I imagine we’re saying goodbye on a train at night, in the rain, and it’s so romantic I could burst. I replay that sound and image that’s him holding back his tears.

  I blink, realizing there are tears in my eyes. I can’t believe this is happening.

  The drums grow louder and the song goes into full swing. He sings about how he could never find the woman of his dreams, how she never existed, she was just a figment of his imagination. I wish I could be the woman of his dreams, the one he sings about.

  I clasp my hands to my chest, holding back a sob, as he paces up and down the stage. He’s so powerful, every inch of him laden with muscle, looking like he could explode out of his clothes.

  “And you never let me go, you never had me so, the answer was always, was always... no, no, no.”

  He’s walking right toward me.

  I brush my hair down, as though he’s going to care, as though he’s going to notice. I even wore a nice dress tonight. At least, I hope it’s nice. He’s singing and raging and getting closer, walking right toward my end of the stage.

  The song is coming to an end. He has no more lyrics. The guitars are slowing down.

  Aaron Blaze is staring at me.

  He stands with his hands at his sides, the mic trailing behind him, his chest heaving as his intense eyes pin me in place.

  I do the only thing I can think of.

  I wave.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Aaron

  She’s short and beautiful, probably reaching up to my chest. Her dress is black and fitted and hugs her shapely body in the best way possible. Her wide hips lead down towards her thick luscious thighs. Hunger ignites in me, deep and possessive. It takes hold of me. She takes hold of me.

  I need to guide her trembling hand to my throbbing manhood. I need to bend her over and expose those plump ass cheeks, kissing and nibbling her skin as I get closer to her soaked heat. The next song is starting and my bandmates are probably wondering what the hell I’m doing.

  But I’m possessed. She lowers her hand after the wave, and I find myself smirking.

  She’s cute and sexy and beautiful all rolled into one.

  I raise my hand, waving back, and the excitable little thing clutches her hand to her chest. My primal need stirs, my balls swelling, as I judge her age. Twenty. I’ve never been the sort to fuck women backstage. I’ve never even had a long-term relationship or any relationship.

  But this woman is waking up parts of me I never knew existed.

  Suddenly, I’m stalking off the stage. People are staring but I don’t care. I can’t stop.

  I stand over my woman, stare down into her eyes. Her cheeks are wet with tears.

  She gasps when I grab her arms and pull her into a kiss. I snarl through the press of our lips, she gasps and wriggles against me, her hands nervously gripping at my shoulders. I kiss her deeper, unable to stop, and then her hand is on my chest.

  I lean back, and someone grabs onto my arm.

  “Aaron, the next song.”

  “I know,” I whisper, staring down into her eyes.

  Her mouth is hanging open, her lips red, bruised from my kiss, her eyes wide and stunned. She looks so vulnerable and ready to give herself to me, every single piece of her.

  “Wait for me,” I snarl, and then I turn away.

  I have to focus on the performance now, bringing the mic to my lips and launching into the next song. I try to summon the passion my fans love so much, going to the edge of the stage and roaring out as I hammer my chest.

  But my eyes only scan the crowd, as though my woman is going to be looking up at me. I know she’s backstage. I know it’s impossible, but my mind mentally floods the arena with her face, with her stunned pale blue eyes.

  She belongs to me. She’s mine forever.

  I can still taste her on my lips, feel her body pressed against mine. I can still feel the way she slowly sank into the kiss, and how she wasn’t completely sure about grasping onto my shoulders.

  Reeling away from the stage, I pace again, giving me an excuse to get closer to my woman. I scan the area, the curtains she was pressed against.

  She’s gone.

  I bolt to the other side of the stage, but she isn’t there either. As I launch into a fast section about how empty I feel, about how nothing will ever fill the void, it’s never felt truer.

  I look across the arena. Maybe she really is out there now. Or maybe she’s gone forever. I can’t stand the thought of never seeing her again.

  Nobody has ever made me feel a thing, no woman, no groupie, none of the pleasures that obsessed my other bandmates for years. But one look at her and I crumbled.

  Suddenly singing about emptiness feels like a lie, because I felt what it was like to be whole, for a brief moment.

  It was when I locked eyes with my woman.

  “You good, bro?” Mikey asks.

  Our days of partying after our shows are long behind us. All members of the band, except for me, have fami
lies. Corey and Jeremiah sit at the table in the corner, sipping soda and playing cards. Mikey sits next to me, as we stare at the TV, football highlights playing on silent.

  “Yeah.” I sigh darkly.

  “Last date of the tour,” Mikey says quietly. “I guess it can be tough.”

  “What, all of you go back to your loving families while I go back to a big empty house?”

  Mikey laughs gruffly. “You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

  I smirk at my old friend, the lead guitarist who stepped in just before we made it to the big time. I don’t like thinking about what happened before that, because the past is the past, and there’s no reason to drag it up.

  What matters now is the present.

  Finding my woman.

  “I kissed a girl backstage.”

  The entire band sits up. Corey and Jeremiah look up from their playing cards. Corey’s long black hair spills down his back, but Jeremiah the drummer looks like an accountant, neat and orderly, without any tattoos.

  “What?” Mikey says in disbelief.

  “She was standing there, and I... I don’t know. Something just happened. Maybe it was the music. Maybe it was more than that. But I kissed her. I asked her to wait for me but…”

  “I’m struggling to get my head around this,” Mikey says, shaking his head slowly. “You kissed someone backstage?”