When Kayla gets an extra ticket to a rock concert from her assistant, she never dreams she'll be hooking up with the far younger lead singer before the show. It's a great one-night stand -- until the bass player, Erik, calls her a few nights later. Jason is sick, and only Kayla can help him.
Jason and Erik of Daze on End have navigated a strange, energy-based sexual puzzle their whole lives. When Kayla enters their lives, some of the answers begin to fall into place as the three of them find themselves on an erotic journey that will change all their lives.
This collection contains the previously released Beautiful Music novellas Daze on End, Interlude in C, Finding the Chords, and Colour Haze.
Praise for the Beautiful Music novellas
Best Paranormal/Urban Fantasy Book 2010
"What an enchanting thrill ride of a story this one is."
-- Susan W., The Romance Studio
"If you haven't picked up this latest book from an exceptional author, then run to grab it. It will definitely keep you entertained and eager to know more about this wonderful band. Daze on End is one wild rockin' time and I am eager to see if Ms. Talbot continues her stories for them in the future."
4 Hearts! -- Dawn, Love Romances and More
Beautiful Music (Collection)
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2014 Faith Talbot
Excerpt from Daze on End
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He was rangy and lean, with shaggy dark blond hair, and shoulders a little too wide for the rest of him. It was the kind of body so many men don't grow into until their mid-thirties, Kayla thought. A good body. He had a few more years of muscle-building to go.
His cock tasted like salt and iron.
He had his back up against the wall, his mouth slack, gray eyes glazed as his orgasm trembled its way into his hips. She curled her fingers around the base of his dick to hold him off, and he moaned a protest. She grinned, mouth stretching around his shaft.
It wasn't the best place for a blowjob. She wasn't even sure where they were -- she'd just followed him when he led the way. It wasn't the bathrooms and it wasn't backstage, but it was somewhere between the bar and the place where the band would be preparing for their performance in a few minutes. She didn't really care. She had a mouth full of cock, the smell of his musk tickling her nose, the taut skin of his belly trembling under her fingers. It's all good.
She hadn't really meant to pick him up. In fact, she still wasn't sure if she'd picked him up or he'd picked her up. It was hard to tell sometimes, when you met each other's eyes across a bar and that lightning-fast "fuck me" shot across the room between you. She bought him a drink, he came to her table; the courtship lasted perhaps fifteen minutes and ended with her on her knees.
She curled her fingers around his scrotum, feeling his balls draw up. A careful squeeze stopped him, and his sharp sound of protest sounded almost like pain. She couldn't help laughing at him. She knew how to do these things. She had the experience he was too young to have accumulated. Far too young.
Her chuckle made his hand tighten in her hair. "Don't hold me off, baby. I have to go on in fifteen minutes." His tone was easy and amused. No anger in it at all. She had to give him credit there, since she'd strangled his orgasm twice now.
Go on. She wondered at the statement, but not for long. He pushed his cock into her mouth, pressing against the back of her throat. Not hard, just a little demanding. She decided she liked him. She swallowed with the head of his cock pressed against the very back of her mouth, and he gave an appreciative hum. His hips tilted back a little and his fingers tightened in her hair. She knew this was his signal that she should pull back or swallow a good mouthful of jizz. Kayla opted to swallow.
Above her, she heard his gasp, ecstasy threaded with surprise, maybe a little gratitude. I do like him. I really do.
His hips bucked, his back arching against the wall behind him. His fingers clenched in Kayla's hair, then relaxed until he was combing through it instead of holding on.
She drew back, licked the full length of his shaft, the sleek, trembling head. He flinched back, wincing and laughing at the same time. Kayla tucked him neatly back in and refastened his fly, then kissed the layer of denim on top of the zipper. His hand came down to her shoulder, and his gentle touch drew her to her feet.
He was at least six inches taller than she was. He didn't just dip his head to kiss her -- he lowered his whole body, bent knees, bowed spine, like he was surrendering all of himself into her space.
His mouth was generously shaped, and he knew what to do with it. She craved it suddenly, wanted it between her thighs. Not here, though. If this was a bad place for fellatio, it was an even worse place for cunnilingus.
He was probably about to leave, anyway, if he had to "go on." It sounded like he must be with the opening band. Kayla had had no idea.
He took his time kissing her, though, behaving not at all like someone who needed to be somewhere else in ten minutes. His hand lifted to cup the back of her head and he angled her a little, giving himself better access to her mouth. She opened beneath him. She only knew she was about to moan when she felt the vibration in the back of her throat. He chuckled at the sound and stroked her tongue with his. He tasted... like beer and like man, maybe vaguely of weed. It wasn't the most appetizing combination, but it was arousing. Ridiculously so.
Kayla knew he was going to leave any minute -- this was probably the good-bye smooch. The kiss-off, as it were, but oh, it was a good one. She knew this, but she still wanted... more than he had time to give her.
It was the want, the need, that made her hand press down between her own legs, where her cunt felt too big for the space allotted for it there. And wet. Slick. So wet it felt like her body could slide in half, like he could press fingers, hand, his entire arm inside her and meet no resistance.
The heel of her hand pressed between her legs, into that heat burning through her jeans, and brushed against another hand on its way to the same place. Surprised, she opened her eyes and drew her head back. He was looking at her with mischief in his gray eyes. A thick shock of messy blond hair nearly obscured them. She had a sudden urge to brush it back.
"You have to go on," she said, barely hearing herself. Her ears were buzzing, her whole body an aching throb longing for release.
He grinned. His fingers -- long, slim, a musician's fingers, and how could she have missed that? -- brushed hers aside and he slid his hand down the front of her jeans. No unbuttoning, no unzipping -- just his hand down past the fly and inside her panties. It was a bit tight in there for him to maneuver, but he managed it, and his fingertips slid unerringly onto her clit. She flinched, and he chuckled.
"So wet," he muttered. "So fucking wet."
She grabbed his head and dragged his mouth back down to hers. Suddenly she didn't want him looking at her. It was one thing when she had his dick in her mouth, and he was too blinded by lust to see through the shadows. To figure out she was a long way away from having been in his graduating class.
He devoured her mouth while his thumb rolled against her clit and long, clever fingers slid down and inside her. He pressed hard, pressed in, and she couldn't help it. She fell apart as a shower of sparks broke behind her eyelids. The sounds she made were ridiculous, but he swallowed them down, sucking her tongue into his mouth.
When he drew back, he was laughing. "See?" The smugness in his voice was almost enough to make her want to smack him. Almost. "That didn't take long at all."