The Duke and the Deadbeat
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by Gregory L. Norris
Category: Erotica/Gay-Lesbian Erotica/Mainstream
Description: Duke Donovan was born into rock royalty. The front man for popular Goth band 3-D, Duke's had everything handed to him his entire life-fame, fortune, flesh. The problem is he wants none of it. After staging an unforgettable concert meant to give him an exit from the spotlight, Duke skyrockets 3-D's rising star past the stratosphere, making the band more popular than ever, and leaving Duke ready to crack from the pressure. Seamus Whyler: tall, handsome, and passionate about music. Seamus has had none of Duke's lucky breaks, but he dreams of a rock star's life while living out of his car between gigs. Meeting Duke is like looking into a mirror-and long last being given a shot at true stardom when the pop prince offers to switch places with the pauper. But leaving their real identities behind isn't so easy a thing to accomplish, as Duke and Seamus soon discover while dogged by their pasts as well as a ruthless celebrity music blogger who smells a ringer, and when the opportunity for true love forces them both to face the music.
eBook Publisher: Ravenous Romance, 2012
eBookwise Release Date: July 2012
2 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [242 KB]
Reading time: 144-202 min.
Maroon 5 stud Adam Levine had taken to the stage stripped down to his black boxer-briefs, black socks, and smoldering Cheshire Cat smile that ensured the other side of his bed would never grow cold. The guys in Blink 182 had turned mediocre talent into mega-success by conveniently forgetting to put on their pants or underwear before streaking out to their instruments, dicks swinging, hairy butts proudly displayed for the crowd to behold. Before them, Green Day's broodingly handsome front man Billie Joe Armstrong, his mop of hair bleached blond and dyed neon green, had strummed his guitar and crooned for the orgasming audience with his lush thatch of pubic curls and limp cock hanging in clear view. After, it was the Scissor Sisters and Queens of the Stone Age letting it all dangle. Once, live on MTV, some hairy Wolverine-looking tool going by the name of Evil Jared Hasselhoff hopped on a crate, whipped out his manhood, and relieved himself on the lead singer of the band Placebo.
Duke Donovan Dalton, the driving force behind the Goth-rock band 3-D, planned to outshine all of them. The Death Heart Tour's final leg, winding through Austin and concluding in Boston, would be the ultimate musical mind-fuck.
"You can do this," Duke said calmly, casting a nervous glance into the mirror.
Harley shot him a look from the other side of the room. Duke's trusted assistant, who also maintained the band's website and social media pages on FaceSpace, MyBook, and Chatter, always knew when something dangerous was brewing, and Duke sensed now was no different. What would he Chit about, using that economy of a hundred and forty-four words? Duke looking way too calm. Huge audience, eager to hear the tunes, screaming bloody murder. What if the murder victim's Duke Dalton? I think he's contemplating suicide!
Harley really knew Duke. They'd grown up together as kids touring with their dads' band. An uncomfortable rush of warmth bloomed in his gut, threatening to crack the calmness staring back from the glass.
"What's going on?" Harley demanded. No one else would dare speak to Duke Dalton that way; not the band's concert promoters, the rock journalists, or late-night talking heads. Not even Duke's dad, Jack Dalton, lead singer in the big-hair juggernaut, Stage Fright.
"I don't know what you mean," Duke said flatly.
"For starters, you haven't touched the snack bar."
Duke swept a glance across the table. There were plenty of bottles looming over a half dozen bowls, each filled with colorful, tempting vices: big red disks, blue ones, green, two shades of brown, yellow.
Duke marched over to the snack bar, grabbed a handful of green, and crunched down.
"Mmm, peanut butter, my favorite," he said and popped one of the bottles, washing the candy down with a jolt of lukewarm soda. "There, satisfied?"
Harley watched Duke from the corner of his eye but didn't answer.
The dude was onto him. Oh well, Duke thought. By the end of the show, the whole world would be. And he was okay with that. Better than okay. Every other day, some new scandal and sex tape broke on the news.
At least he wouldn't bore them.
Shaye Floden, 3-D's keyboard player, grabbed a handful of candy-- red. He stood in the middle of the backstage clubhouse and dressing rooms clad only in his underwear, a pair of tight-fitting designer whites stuffed to capacity in the front. Shaye had the second-biggest cock in the band, inferior size-wise only to Duke himself, and wasn't ashamed to let that fact be known.
"You nervous?" Shaye asked, crunching on candy and scratching at the meat of his balls.
"No," Duke answered.
"Figured you must be, on account of the fact that you look so calm." Shaye flashed a cocky smile and ogled his dick. "Damn, I can't wait to fuck something tonight."