Sold Out (Book 5 of The Back-Up Series)

By A.M. Madden

The Back-Up Series is a best-selling rock star romance that should be read in order.
Sold Out is the final book in The Back-Up Series.

Life as rock stars couldn’t be better for Devil’s Lair.
Wealth, success, love all make for perfect lives.
That is until fate steps in, once again.
There are twists and turns that you’ll never see coming.
Grab some tissues because you're going to need them.

The Back-Up Series: Back-Up, Front & Center, Encore, Backstage, The Devil's Lair, Backstage Pass, Sold Out.

Warning: This book is meant for mature readers who are 18+. It contains explicit language and graphic sexual content.

• Language: English
• Publisher: A.M. Madden
• Release date: Feb 12, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463318928

A.M. Madden

A.M. Madden is a USA Today bestselling author, as well as 2016 eLit Gold Medalist for Best Romance Ebook, and 2016 Ippy Award Silver Medalist for Best Romance Ebook. A.M. is a wife, a mother, an avid reader of romance novels, and now an author. "It's all about the HEA." A.M. Madden is the author of the popular Back-Up Series, as well as several other contemporary romances. She is also a published author with Loveswept/Random House and Entangled Publishing. A self-proclaimed hopeless romantic, she loves getting lost in a good book. She also uses every free moment of her time writing, while spending quality time with her three handsome men. A.M. is a Gemini and an Italian Jersey girl, but despite her Zodiac sign, nationality, or home state, she is very easy going. She loves the beach, loves to laugh, and loves the idea of love. A.M. Madden, Independent Romance Author. Sign up for A.M. Madden's newsletter at www.ammadden.com to get up to date information on new releases, cover reveals, and exclusive excerpts. Facebook: authorammadden Twitter: @ammadden1 Instagram: ammadden1 Copyright © A.M. Madden, Author, All rights reserved. A.M. Madden is a Goodreads Author and can be contacted on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, or at [e-mail]

Book preview

The Back-Up Series

Back-Up ~ Book 1

Front & Center ~ Book 2

Encore ~ Book 3

Backstage ~ Book 4

The Devil’s Lair ~ Book 4.5

Backstage Pass ~ A Back-Up Quickie

Sold Out ~ Book 5

Shock Jock, A Lair Novel

Table of Contents

The Back-Up Series

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

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Epilogue

Another Epilogue

The Back-Up Series Playlist

Acknowledgments

More by A.M. Madden

About A.M. Madden

Chapter 1

"Love is many things: fickle, fragile, mysterious, and, above all, complicated. Is there anything else as powerful, though? Think about it. Love has the ability to bring either euphoria or hell, depending on the circumstances surrounding it. And even though it has the power to decimate a heart or splinter a soul, to ruin you for all of eternity, humans still desperately need to find love.

Sure, some of us have bounced back and loved again. Some may have even found better forms of love the second, third, or eighth time around. Others may have never gotten over the pain, fearful to ever try again. And each time we dare to dip our toe into the pool of love, we usually jump in blindly. By the time we know whether the path it plans to take is one of total destruction or one of profound elation, it’s usually too late.

His audible sigh filters through the speaker before he adds, Call me an idiot, but in my opinion… it is absolutely worth the fucking risk. A short pause forces you to contemplate his words, and then a deep chuckle reverberates over the air. "Well, on that note, it’s time to get home to my love. This is Dr. Vaughn Lair signing off. Remember to fuck with all your heart, and fuck like your life depends on it. Good night, America."

Leila leans forward to touch the preset, switching over to a classic-rock station that we enjoy. Your cousin is a smart man.

He can be at times. I cut my gaze to her before focusing back on the deserted road. But enlighten me, what is he smart about this time? I ask, wanting my wife’s take on it.

"Love is worth the risk," she counters, the corners of her full lips curving into a satisfied smirk.

Yes, it most definitely is worth the risk. I reach for her hand and lift it to kiss her knuckles.

When she can, Leila enjoys tuning in to my cousin Vaughn’s syndicated sex-therapy show, often quoting back to me the advice he doles out to his listeners. There are times she’ll even mention a new sexual position or technique that a reader shared, which works well for my libido.

After Vaughn arrived in New York, I accused her of having a crush on him. Not denying it, my wife was quick to point out it was a harmless crush, reminding me that Vaughn’s girlfriend, Haven, in turn crushed on me as well. Leila blamed the irresistible Lair genes, and I couldn’t argue her point.

I don’t need Vaughn to know that you were the best risk I’d ever taken, my wife.

As were you, my husband. The second time I glance over, her smile widens before she throws me a wink… one that instantly stirs up my sex drive.

For the record, I love my wife with all my heart. However, I also happen to lust her with all my soul. Physically, I find her to be perfection—silky chestnut locks I love burying my hands into, amber eyes that can bring me to my knees, full lips that make my mouth water wanting to nibble on them, and a body that can harden my cock even while fully clothed.

I’d do it again in a heartbeat, she touts confidently. After all we’ve been through, I can appreciate that claim. Leila and I risked a fuck-ton to be together, and I’d risk it all again to be right where we are now.

Our lives weren’t always sunshine and rainbows. And even after we survived all the crap caused by two psychos from my past, there were still many stressful situations challenging us.

Being famous rock stars, and the demands that come with touring, causes exhausting days… not to mention parenting our three kids with another on the way. But it’s the kind of exhaustion that fuels the foundation of our love, a love that is so intense it’s become a force between us. Together, we handle it all and make it a point to remember the romance that cements our relationship.

Normally, by stealing moments here and there, Leila and I are able to keep things exciting in the sex department. We are as infatuated with each other today as we were when we started out. To be honest, I’m even more so, because as sexy as she was then, there’s nothing sexier than the woman you love having your babies.

We recently found out the one she’s carrying now is a boy. Yet to be named, our fourth joins his brother Shane, and our twins, Madden and Siarra. We haven’t told anyone else yet. Through our sons’ wishfully thinking it’s another boy to play with, Siarra now thinks it is a boy as well. Adorably, she kisses Leila’s stomach every morning, asking, Is my brudder coming today?

This pregnancy has been fairly easy so far. With Leila now in her eighth month, memories of the complications when she carried the twins will always be on our minds. Putting a woman like Leila on complete bed rest for the last weeks of her pregnancy made for a cranky wife. Thank God, she was able to deliver them at term through a C-section. This time, she’s being monitored closely to ensure her blood pressure doesn’t spike again.

Until this baby is in my arms, I’ll continue to stress over his arrival. I keep most of my angst to myself, not wanting to worry her more than necessary. Just like the last pregnancy, she insists she’s not tired, always trying to handle everything herself. And just like the last time, I ignore her claim by having everything handled for her.

Between our nanny, Beverly, and our parents, we aren’t hurting for babysitters. The lack of alone time is mostly because my wife loves those kids so damn much she doesn’t want to spend any time away from them. I don’t either, but the selfish prick in me needs her undivided attention every now and again.

It’s been way too long since I’ve had her all to myself. The past year has been a tornado of emotions from touring the world and adopting Shane after he lost his mother to cancer. At just five, he was left alone with no one to love him and facing years in the foster-care system. Fate had us crossing paths, and the moment we had, we knew Shane was meant to be in our family.

Since getting back from Europe, the craziness has only increased. We haven’t had a moment to breathe. Hunter and Scott no longer live to solely play the drums and guitar in the band. They’re husbands now, dads. Even Trey is head over heels in love, something I thought I’d never see in my lifetime. Despite our sappy and sweet personal lives, we’re still kick-ass rock stars who are pretty much living dual lives.

And then add Leila’s pregnancy to all that insanity, the holidays, birthdays, recording our album, and the kids… all of which is the reason I’m currently kidnapping my wife for the weekend.

How’s my boy doing? I ask, releasing her hand to palm her belly.

He’s kicking my bladder again. She settles back in her seat, placing her hands over mine.

Do you need me to stop?

No. We’re almost there. At this hour of the night, the parkway has gifted us with an open road, shortening the ride to just over an hour from the city. Not many are traveling to the Jersey Shore on a cold Friday night in February.

Leila softly sings along with the radio as the heater keeps the air around us warm and comfortable, swirling the scent of the leather with the hint of coconut from her shampoo. It reminds me of watching her this morning in the shower.

Internally, I chuckle at her calling me a creeper, while still indulging me as I stood gawking at her naked form through the clear glass door. I love her body when’s she pregnant, or when she’s not… or when she’s under mine as I burrow my cock in her warmth.

Shit, I can’t wait to get her alone and ravish every inch of her.

This trip to our beach house will serve two purposes. First, I’ll be celebrating Valentine’s Day alone with my wife. No kids barging in, no bandmates cockblocking me, no agents calling at all hours of the day… just Leila, me, and a huge house to fuck in. Yeah, sure, I plan to make sweet love to her over the course of the next two days, but first I plan to fuck her hard and fast. The kind of fucking that has her screaming my name… the kind we rarely can engage in lately for fear we’ll be waking someone up in the process.

This weekend, she’ll be able to scream all she wants. Except for the seagulls, no one will hear her.

The other reason we’re at the beach house is to shop for the baby’s nursery. Once he arrives in early April, we won’t have time to do so if we decide to pack up the brood and escape to the beach. Leila wants everything the baby will need to be there ready for him in case we do.

By the time we pull up to our gate, it’s close to midnight. The solar lights lining our winding driveway serve as a landing path toward the house. Leila adores it here, especially when our friends and family join us. She loves entertaining, and our beach house, with many guest rooms, enables her to do so properly. This house is one of the few things that reveal the spoils of our wealth.

Despite the money we’ve made, Leila and I are pretty grounded. The first thing I bought, without a second thought, was my BMW… and that was really a purchase of need after not having a car of my own for most of my adult life. Our beach house was the second impulsive purchase I made. I married a Jersey girl, and giving her a place on the beach was important to me. Our third and only other major purchase was our penthouse in the city.

I love our apartment, but this will always be our home. Years from now, when our kids are grown with families of their own, this house is where we’ll be counting our blessings.

Knowing we’d be arriving late, I had our housekeeper stock the fridge this afternoon before giving her the rest of the weekend off. We will officially have no distractions.

Thank you for indulging me and waiting until they were all asleep before we left, Leila says while stretching her arms over her head. I hate not reading to them and tucking them in.

I haven’t even begun to indulge you, baby, but you’re welcome.

Before cutting the engine, I shift in my seat to face her. I have one demand.

Just one, huh? she asks, wiggling her eyebrows.

Okay, I have a few, but just one that doesn’t involve sex. Her expression turns inquisitive as she waits for me to continue. Promise me you’ll relax and not worry about the kids. They’re fine. They have your parents with them tonight, mine tomorrow night, and then we’ll be home before they know it. She meets my gaze and hesitates enough for me to prompt, Lei… promise me.

Fine, I promise. When I bury my hand in her hair to kiss her lips, her pout spreads into a smile against my mouth. It never fails… the moment my lips touch hers that electric charge between us crackles through my core before settling into a hot pulse low in my cock.

Time to get you to bed, I murmur against her lips.

I’m not tired.

You will be once I’m done doing all sorts of filthy things to you.

Leaving her sleeping soundly, I make my way to the kitchen. I’m not domesticated in any way. Since Leila came into my life, I’ve picked up a few culinary tricks. Yes, I can count on one hand the dishes I’ve mastered… scrambled eggs being one of them and toast being another. The other two or three all involve boiling a box of pasta and opening a jar of sauce, something that causes my Italian wife to cringe over.

I try my best to keep the noise at a minimum, but that’s hard to do when you’re in search of the basic tools needed to make a simple breakfast. If Leila could see me now, with hands on my boxer-clad hips while staring at the dozens of cherry cabinets that I haven’t yet tried opening in search of a frying pan, she’d no doubt push me aside with a smirk to make her own breakfast.

With a stroke of luck, I smile like a fool when my next attempt reveals just what I’m looking for.

My wife has come to appreciate my efforts, and on the rare occasions I cook for her, I score serious points. Breakfast in bed on Valentine’s Day is the mother lode.

Snatching a rose from the bouquet Leila found on the kitchen island when we arrived last night, I place it on the tray and make my way up to our bedroom. Before I reach the door, I can hear my wife talking sweetly to one of the kids.

Yes, baby girl, Mommy and Daddy will be home tomorrow… be good for Nanna Barb and Pop Pop… I love you too.

She doesn’t notice me leaning against the doorframe. The sexy mess of wavy hair framing cheeks still flushed from sleep stirs the familiar longing within me. The fact she’s now wearing my T-shirt over her naked torso means the eggs and toast I’m holding will definitely be cold once I’m through with her.

In light of what I made her promise last night, that call better have been incoming and not the other way around.

Good morning, Madden. With the phone still raised toward her face, at the sound of me clearing my throat, her eyes dart to where I am standing a few feet away. A quick smile spreads before her gaze lands back on my son’s image.

Hi, Mommy. Where’s Dad? Madden responds in his typical, down-to-business way. Leila holds her phone out for me with a guilty expression written all over her face.

You’re in trouble, missy.

Have I told you how much I seriously love you? she asks, plucking a strawberry just as I place the tray on the bed to take her cell.

I respond to her statement with a quick kiss on her lips and a muttered, Nice try.

As I turn her phone around, Madden expectantly waits for my face to appear on his screen. Hey, buddy. What’s up?

Daddy, Shane and me want to wecord a song. Can you teach Pop Pop how to use the camewa?

Can you guys practice today, and I’ll record you when Mommy and I get home tomorrow? Explaining technology to my father-in-law, when all I want to do is make sweet love to my wife, is the last thing I want to do on Valentine’s morning. The man still has a flip phone and listens to his music on a record player. Granted, his collection of vinyl albums is quite impressive.

Shane’s face appears on the small screen beside Madden’s. Hey, Dad. I tried to tell him that. He won’t listen.

I wisten, Madden argues while nudging Shane to the side.

Shane meets my gaze and rolls his eyes. On a chuckle, I say, Thanks for being a good big brother, Shane. Madden, you need to wait for me. Pop Pop doesn’t know how to work the camera. Okay?

But what if I fowget the song?

Shane will help you remember it. Right, Shane?

Yep.

I wait as Madden processes my request. Okay. Can you bwing us a suwpwise?

Yes… but only if you’re good for Nanna Barb and Grandma Renata. Mommy and I will talk to you guys later.

Bye, he says, ending the call and not giving me a chance to say anything else in response.

Leila laughs while shaking her head. All your fault. You created a monster. She’s referring to my brilliant idea to record the kids as they gave us a concert one night. Shane has taken to playing guitar beautifully, thanks to Trey’s tutelage. After all, Trey’s mad bass-playing skills are the very reason we just had to add him to Devil’s Lair.

Madden and Siarra, however, are just going through the motions on their toy drum set and piano. I can’t lie, though. The thought of them actually becoming musicians brings a surge of pride that warms my heart.

Yeah, but the look on Madden’s face when minutes later I had the footage playing on our big-screen TV was priceless, and worth his new obsession.

True. She plucks another strawberry and with her eyes tethered to mine sucks on the tip seductively.

I know what you’re doing, Mrs. Lair.

What?

Fess up and admit you called them. The look on her face gives her away. You promised.

She tucks a finger inside the waistband of my boxer briefs and tugs me closer. You weren’t here. I figured I’d get the call out of the way so I could focus on you without distraction. I align myself over her body, and the rumble from her stomach that reverberates through her seems amplified.

On that note, first you eat… and then we play.

As you can hear, I’m actually starving, so no argument there. Her eyes sweep over the tray piled with eggs, toast, fruit, and juice. But this isn’t all for me, is it?

Yes, it is, I respond, grabbing my cup of coffee off the tray to take a sip. What I plan on eating involves burying my face between your legs. First, I’ll lick you as an appetizer, and then I’ll nibble on your clit as my meal.

On cue, her mouth hangs open, and her chest rises and falls with each breath she takes. I’m not sure if the gold flecks in her eyes shimmer from the sunlight streaming into the room or because of the visual that just popped into her head. But when she snatches the fork and begins eating her breakfast with gusto, my guess is that it’s the latter.

Chapter 2

The love I have for this man is so intense that at times it’s hard to breathe. It’s the kind of love that makes me scared of what would happen if it ever disappeared. Jack continues to steal my heart, which is ridiculous because he already owns every millimeter of it.

It reminds me of a science experiment we once witnessed in middle school. Our teacher filled a jar with rocks and asked if there was any room left. A resounding no caused him to then pour a glass of sand into the jar. He repeated the question, and our response remained the same. He then poured water into the jar and smiled at our gaping mouths.

With each day, my heart miraculously makes room for more love. It’s crazy.

Having him to myself last night, sleeping naked without having to worry about little humans jumping into bed with us, was the perfect start to our romantic weekend.

Delivering breakfast in bed was just Jack being Jack. So is, for that matter, the way he pounces on me the moment my fork hits the empty plate.

Done? he asks, as if he doesn’t know. I devoured every bite of his romantic feast that could feed a small army.

Stuffed. I lean closer, kissing his firm, warm lips, the taste of coffee and Jack an intoxicating combination.

He places his mug on the side table, and when he turns, through the look on his face, I now know it’s his time to feast. Without ceremony, he lifts his T-shirt off my body and tosses it to the ground. He then arranges me flat on the mattress, not bothering to conceal the lust consuming him.

The tip of his finger traces my tattoo. Fuck, I still love this tat, he says, his voice rough with desire.

My motive was silly, the tattoo prompted by my having heard that one of his fans had tattooed her ass with Mrs. Jack Lair. Screw that. So one night in Vegas, the girls and I did something impulsive, and my lower abdomen is now marked with The ONLY Mrs. J.H. Lair, otherwise known as Jackson Henry Lair. Jack loves it, especially since it’s located a few inches above my clit—and besides the tattoo artist and my gynecologist, no eyes but his have ever seen it.

Time for me to eat, my wife. Before I can respond, his mouth is on me. At first, he pecks light kisses around my perimeter. The muscles in my thighs tremble with anticipation of what’s to come. My husband likes to make a production of cunnilingus. Yes, there are times he devours me, instigating an immediate orgasm. Then there are the times, like now, when he laps lazily… leisurely licks, sucks, and kisses me in the most sensual way. Each method results in the same build of heightened ecstasy before ending in a state of sated bliss.

Sometimes I forget to breathe as he tortures me with his mouth… like now. I have to force myself to drag in a deep intake of air when he reaches for my hand and entwines our fingers. It’s his way of reminding me we are always emotionally connected, especially when he’s doing dirty things to my body.

The tightening of my fingers around his means I’m getting close. Jack’s gray eyes land on mine just as he brings my clit into his mouth and sucks relentlessly.

Words fail me… noises, moans, and sighs are all I’m capable of while I spin into a vortex of indescribable pleasure. Before I can crawl my way back up to reality, Jack shifts to his knees and in one swift thrust drives himself into my still-quivering channel.

Fuck, he predictably says, claiming that the moment when my orgasm is still pulsing within me feels like heaven on earth around his cock.

And just as predictably, my release takes on a life of its own as I begin to climb back up, bridging my first orgasm to my next.

Where the first one delicately rolled through me, this next one rips me apart and sucks me dry. My belly prevents him from pressing our torsos together. So instead Jack hitches my leg around his hip, corkscrewing his way toward his own climax with every precise plunge. I watch in awe the way his gorgeous face tenses just as his body does. I revel in the love I see deep in those charcoal eyes as he rides it out before relaxing with a content smile.