Lucas: A Rockstar Romance (The Sinful Seven Series Book 1) Read online

  Lucas

  Connie Lafortune

  Lucas

  The Sinful Seven series (Book #1)

  Connie Lafortune

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual person, living and dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  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. Thank you for respecting this author’s hard work.

  Lucas

  All rights reserved

  Copyright © 2021 Connie Lafortune

  http://www.connielafortune.com/

  Cover Design by Vie La Publishing House LLC

  Edited by Peter Gaskin https://reedsy.com/peter-gaskin

  Created with Vellum

  To Jenny, for being the selfless person you are.

  Don’t be strong. Be indestructible!

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Also By Connie Lafortune

  Lust

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Sloth

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Wrath

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Greed

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Gluttony

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Envy

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Pride

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  Jet

  Acknowledgments

  I’d like to thank my husband Alan for the long nights, the lonely days, and for his constant love and support. 2020 brought about so many changes for the both of us, but there’s nothing we can’t conquer, together. Just knowing I have you in my corner is enough for me. You’re my rock, my favorite critic, and my best friend. Love you, sweetie! XO

  To my editor, friend, and mentor, Peter Gaskin. This one was a long time in the making, but you’re always ready, willing, and able when I reach out for an edit. I’m going to keep you busy in 2021, I hope you’re ready!

  To all my readers who’ve taken a chance on me. Every single one of you is the reason why I pour my blood, sweat, and tears onto a blank page. I’m nothing without you…

  To my parents—Jeanne and Roland—who are no longer of this Earth but are forever in my heart. I love you both to the moon and back, a trillion times ten.

  To my Lord and Savior for giving me the gift of words so I can in turn share them with others.

  Also By Connie Lafortune

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  Newsletter

  Private Messages

  Bound by Steel

  The Claiming of Callan

  Because of You

  Lust

  “To need someone more than you want is insecurity. To want someone more than you need them is Lust. Love is when you need and want someone in your life in equal amounts.”

  Unknown

  1

  Lucas

  Imagine a busy workday. A day filled with stress, chaos, bosses screaming at you, cars blaring their horns for no goddamn reason. A day that leaves you utterly drained, toughens your skin. Most people can get through to the next day by grabbing a bottle of wine, kicking off their shoes, and watching the sunset. Pretending that their shitty day didn’t exist. That’s not me. I need more. Screw the sunset, I need a mouth wrapped around my dick. I don’t care if her lips are painted red, pink, blue, or fucking green. As long as she’s on her knees, hands on her thighs, while I fuck her mouth. With her half-hooded eyes gazing up at me. I happen to be the God she’s worshiping at this very moment. And as soon as I explode down the back of her throat, she’s history. This, my friends, is by far the most gratifying climax to the end of a bad day. Did you hear that? Climax? I made a play on words.

  “Yeah, baby. That’s it. Deep-throat my cock. There ya go, like that.”

  Fuck, she’s good! My Uncle Bill would say she could suck the chrome clear off a bumper. And he’d be absolutely right.

  “Are you ready to taste the nectar of the Gods, baby?”

  Did I phrase that as a question? Clearly she can’t talk with her mouth full. Especially when my hands are fisted in her hair, holding her in place. Bambi or Barbara, whatever the hell her name is, can’t speak even if her life depended on it.

  When my breath hitches, my balls tighten and my spine tingles. I know I’m about ready to blow. So with one last thrust into her warm and eager mouth, I erupt.

  “Fuck!”

  Why do words seem to fail me at a time like this? I guess it doesn’t matter, because Bambi’s mouth is full and I’m too busy moaning and groaning to give a shit.

  As soon as she’s licked me clean, I carefully tuck the beast back into my jeans. Where he’ll be safe from her groping hands.

  “Mm, you taste so good, Lucas,” she moans. “Now it’s my turn.”

  Whoa! This wasn’t part of the deal. Her text stated that she wanted to give me a blow job. Nothing more. Nothing less. So she can go home to BOB. Her Battery-Operated Boyfriend. “Sorry, but no can do. Your text message said nothing about me reciprocating.”

  “You’re joking, right? C’mon Lucas. I canceled my date with Brian so I could come here tonight. So don’t mess with me.”

  “Hey, you texted me, Bambi…”

  “My name is Brianna, asshole!”

  Oops, my bad. At least I had the letter right. A great idea suddenly hits me as she storms towards the door. “Hey, maybe if you brush your teeth and call Brian, you can still go on that date.” I duck just as my sophomore-year football trophy goes whizzing by my head. Fuck! That would have left a mark.

  “Go fuck yourself, Lucas!” If only I could, I wouldn’t be in this predicament.

  Note to self: Move all objects which could cause serious bodily harm away from the door. And delete B’s number. God, I shudder to think what would happen if I accidentally drunk texted her one night. Besides, I have more contacts in my little phone than I’ll ever use in my lifetime.

  I am Lucas Pipes Knight. The lead vocalist for The Sinful Seven. I can easily have any woman at any time. Sex is at my fingertips every fucking moment of every fucking day. All I have to do is hover over a number and her pussy’s mine for the taking.

  Am I addicted to sex? Hell yeah! Who wouldn’t be if they were in my shoes? How many guys do you know who can make a girl come by singing alone? Enough said.

  All kidding aside, I have to get my head in the game. Since I promised the guys I’d have a few more songs written by the time practice rolls ar
ound on Monday night, I need to focus with the right head. Instead of the one in my jeans who likes to get me in all kinds of trouble. Otherwise, I’ll be letting them down. And, if I do, I could be the one on the outside looking in. Not going to be a happening thing.

  Grabbing my guitar, notebook, and pen, I try writing lyrics to the amazing music I’ve created. After staring at the same blank page for over an hour, I got nothing. Nada! What the fuck is wrong with me? Why can I create a fucking outstanding piece of music without one fucking word? This is bullshit! All I can think of is the way my cock feels when it’s pounding inside of a tight, wet pussy. And how my balls tingle right before I’m about to explode. Fuck! Apparently, that blow job wasn’t enough. Now I won’t be able to concentrate on anything until I get laid. I throw everything onto the couch, grab my phone, and head out the door. I’m going to Distractions, a local bar down the street. Maybe after I’ve had a few drinks and fucked a few girls, I’ll be able to put words to the exceptional songs I wrote. One can only hope.

  The music’s blaring as I push through the door. Bodies of all shapes and sizes grind and dry hump one another on the makeshift dancefloor. Tits and ass assault my senses, all of which look ripe for the picking. I’m right where I belong. Instantly, my cock stiffens, in spite of the garbage pouring out of the speakers. This music sucks, but I’m not going to let it distract me from my goal. I came here to fuck. And I already have my sights on a brunette in the far corner.

  I’m going to tap that ass.

  I don’t ask, I take. Her hand, that is, as I pull her into the Men’s room.

  “What the hell, Lucas!” she says. How about that, she knows my name. “In case you didn’t notice, I was dancing.”

  “Oh baby, I have a different kinda dance that you’re just gonna love. Now bend over and let me show ya.”

  ***

  Abby

  It’s Sunday night, and I’m on the dance floor with my girls having a fabulous time when Lucas struts in. He’s the lead vocalist for The Sinful Seven and the guy I’ve been hooking up with now and again. I know for a fact he must run his fingers through his thick mane, since his hair is a tousled mess. With his clenched jaw and broody eyes, he storms past on a mission. I know he has his sights set on someone in the far corner. I so wish that someone was me. Pathetic, I know, but the man exudes a confidence that’s not only sexy but hot as hell. Although we’ve bumped uglies occasionally, it doesn’t give me first dibs. And, from what I heard, he never goes back for seconds. So, to have him warm my bed more than once is one helluva boost for this girl right here.

  My eyes follow his every move as he swaggers to the corner of the dance floor, grabs someone’s hand, and strides into the Men’s room with her hand clutched in his. You don’t need to be a rocket scientist to figure out what the hell’s going on in there. What kind of girl fucks a guy in a public restroom? On second thought, when that guy is Lucas Pipes Knight, I guess you’d give your right hand to be that girl. Doesn’t matter where or when, if he has his sights set on you, grab it. It might be the first and last time he does. He’s a God in bed.

  “Abby, close your mouth, babe. You’re drooling,” Beth laughs as she grabs my hands and spins me around. I grow dizzy, losing sight of the man I’ve been crushing on for so long now. She practically screams in my ear, “He’s way out of your league, babe. Check out the guy at three o’clock. He’s been checking you out since we got on the dance floor.”

  Well, you don’t need to tell me twice, so I do. Hey, I’m only human. And although he’s no Lucas, he’s got game. He’s cute if you like that preppy look with a slicked back undercut hairstyle. I don’t give him a second glance since I love a guy with a thick head of hair. So much easier to grab onto when you want to hang on for the ride. Geez, listen to me. I sound like a slut. But in all fairness, I’ve only had a few men in my lifetime. Not as many as the girls dancing with me, but enough to know what turns me on and what doesn’t.

  “Focus, Abby. Ever since Lucas walked in, your body’s moving but your mind’s a million miles away. Remember, we’re celebrating my promotion!” Right, how could I forget since she’s reminded me at least twenty times since we got here? I get it. She’s excited and I’m happy for her, but it gets old after a bit.

  My heart speeds up as I watch Lucas, now leaving the club with a devious grin on his face and sexy bedroom eyes. Yep, pathetic is spot on. Apparently they both had fun. She’s stumbling out of the restroom with flushed cheeks, adjusting her tits, looking around as if nobody would notice. Idiot. And count: one, two, and three. Her girls go running over to get the deets on her piece of ass.

  Why do I hang out in this meat market?

  Beth’s promotion. How could I forget?

  “I’m thirsty. Time for shots, bitches,” I scream so they can hear me over the loud music. They just about plow me over when they go rushing for the bar. Last person there buys drinks, it’s our rule. And it looks like that would be me. Good, now I get to order.

  “Bartender, three blow jobs, please.” His lips curl as he nods his approval. Of course, the girls break down in giggles and I know I’ll regret this come tomorrow morning. Who the hell goes out on a Sunday night? This idiot, that’s who.

  Once he places the shots in front of us, we link our hands behind our backs. “No hands, on the count of three. One. Two. Three!” I wrap my lips around the rim of the glass and tip my head back. In one swallow, the sweet cream and liquor floods my throat and my glass is back on the bar. Glancing over to my partners, I notice the struggle is real. Cheryl’s choking and Beth has her legs crossed, so she doesn’t pee her pants. Yeah, she’s laughing that damn hard. That will teach them. And because I’m feeling generous, I order us three more.

  A few minutes later, she’s dragging my ass back out on the dance floor. Well, let me say after those two shots and three margaritas, my toes are numb. I hope to God I don’t fall flat on my ass because that’s going to hurt! Especially in these fuck-me pumps. Hey, what can I say, I’m not the sexiest woman out here, but I know how to shake what God gave me.

  Bumping, grinding, and humping, and a crowd gathers around us. I can see the predatory look in the eyes of the men buzzing around us, hoping we stumble and fall. Not going to happen, buddy, so keep on moving. Unfortunately, one of them has the balls to grab Beth by her hips, and he starts rubbing all over her ass. Her face is priceless when she realizes he’s fully erect and humping her on the dance floor. Yeah, she’s drunk as a skunk and instead of rubbing on him too, she cracks up laughing. Yep, that’s my girl.

  Cheryl puts him in his place and taps him on the shoulder. “Dude, she’s laughing because she doesn’t like dick.” Immediately, his hands fall by his side and Cheryl fills his space. Grinding against her ass. Works every damn time! I so wish I had the balls to fuck with them, but I don’t. Ball-less little old me.

  At two a.m. I call an Uber while the cute bartender escorts us to the door. “Would any of you ladies like me to walk you out?” Aw, what a cutie pie. He’s concerned. Or is he happy because I tipped him very well?

  “Thanks, but I got this.” I give him a wink since I’m tipsy and feeling flirty.

  An hour later, my girls are all tucked in. For how long, I have no idea, but I leave a bottle of water and two white tablets on the side of each so when they wake in the morning they can grab them. I’m sure they’ll be grateful if they can open their eyes to find them. I don’t even bother washing my face, I just plop on my bed and use the comforter to wrap up in like a taco.

  Not long after, I’m drooling all over my pillow while brown eyes gaze into mine.

  It’s going to be a great night.

  2

  Lucas

  “Yeah, I know better than to screw with you guys.” I’m on the phone with my bandmates. “I have two songs and I’m working on the third as we speak. They’re going to blow your mind. I’ll be there in an hour.”

  “We can’t wait to hear ‘em, Lucas. So hurry up and get your pretty ass over here.�
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  “I would if you’d just let me finish, fucktard.”

  “Sorry. Hanging up now.”

  I breathe a sigh of relief as soon as the line goes dead. Not that I’m worried because I wrote some amazing lyrics for the songs, but I didn’t sleep a wink. I’ve been chugging Monsters all night long and I feel like I’m gonna crash and burn any second now. I’m in desperate need of a shower because I reek of sex. Which isn’t such a bad thing, but I can’t go to practice smelling like a man-whore.

  Sometimes, I get my best ideas while I’m standing under the showerhead, and tonight is no exception. The guys and I create tons of amazing songs on the daily, but the best are the ones that come from real, honest heartfelt emotion. And I hate to sound like a cocky bastard, but I’ve never been dumped or hurt in my entire life. So I guess you could say I’ve never had my heart broken. Maybe that’s why I’ve been having such a hard time finding just the right lyrics. I’ve no problem with the angst of a great rock song, but I’m having trouble with ballads. And the guys insist we have a mixture of both. But after my epiphany last night, I’m thinking energy drinks are my muse.