Breach of Contract: The Nashvegas Series, #2

By Laramie Briscoe

Everett James Thompson

 

Known for my charismatic stage presence and being the oldest son of music royalty, I've always been able to do exactly what I want.

Front my own band? Become one of the powerhouses in the metal genre? Make a name for myself without using that of my parents? I've done all of it.

 

But when Brianna Jenkins walked into my life during a Vegas show, I knew without a doubt my carefully laid plans were over.

 

Getting married to her after a drunken night of debauchery should've been the worst mistake of my life. Instead? It's the best decision I've ever made, and our record company thinks so too.

 

Or they did…

 

Brianna Jenkins Thompson

 

I've traveled the world, performed at Madison Square Garden, and sold out arenas everywhere. Nothing ever really made me nervous. That is, until I met EJ Thompson in Vegas. I needed liquid courage to talk to him, and that night changed my life forever.

 

Gone is the girl under her parents thumb, doing everything the record company tells her, and worrying constantly. In her place is a wife. A woman who knows her worth, standing beside the man who gave her his last name, his ring, and the confidence to let her voice be heard.

 

When the record company realizes just how much of a power couple we are; they serve us with a summons for breach of contract, expecting us to roll over.

 

But there's two things they can't silence. Our voices, and our love.

 

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Laramie Briscoe
• Release date: Jun 7, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201378820

Book preview

Prologue

Bri

Life is weird.

One minute you think you have it all figured out, and the next, your career is tugged out from under you like that tablecloth trick magicians do. Everything holding you up is gone, but the solid objects - the dishes and silverware - remain.

If someone were to ask me, I’d say EJ is my plate and cup.

He’s everything I always dreamed of, but never thought I’d have.

Together we’re navigating our new normal.

The normal the record company has imposed upon us.

We’re not traveling, not making appearances, not recording for them. For all intents and purposed we’ve lost our voices. With a gag order in place, we can’t talk about what’s happening.

But it doesn’t stop it.

They thought they could tear us apart by putting our careers on the line. I know they did. Because I’ve always done what I’ve been told to do, I never questioned if what they wanted was best for me or for them.

Little do they know, their plan backfired.

Instead of us choosing to let go of one another, we’ve truly become a team.

United against the people who try to tear us down.

And I know we’ll win, because we refuse to lose.

Babe? You here?

His voice. It runs all over my body like a soothing warm bath. Flowing through me with the heat of a summertime afternoon. It always has. It’s my favorite sound to hear. Whether it be sleepy in the morning, or loaded with desire in the middle of the night when he wakes me up in the very best of ways.

Upstairs!

I’m going through my clothes, figuring out what I want to keep and what I don’t. Back when I first moved in, there hadn’t been time. There had never been a chance for us to indulge in the little nuances of married life. The label, they didn’t care about what we wanted - only what they wanted. Over the past two months, since we’ve been served and our voices have been silenced, we’ve changed tracks started to make a home. To figure out what represents a real life, and a strong marriage.

His footsteps are loud on the stairs. EJ doesn’t know how to walk quietly, couldn’t creep if he tried. He bursts into the bedroom, sweaty and full of energy.

Have a good time?

His smile, the one I love, gets me right in the stomach. Always a good time when I beat my brother on the basketball court.

He has a seat at the edge of our bed, moving aside clothes I’ve put on the trunk we have at the foot.

You shouldn’t enjoy beating him that much.

I’m older, it’s still a thrill, he shrugs. Not caring that he has an ego. Having fun?

I look around the piles of clothes I have everywhere. Not even a little bit, I wrinkle my nose. I know this has to be done, but I’m so sick of it. Who knew I had this much to wear? Every time I used to look, there was never anything, I laugh.

His eyes light up. Then come with me.

This is new, us going places without checking our schedules. The spontaneity of everything is what I’ve dreamed of.

Where are we going?

He stretches his arms out in front of him. I think it’s time for a new tattoo.

Intrigued, I raise an eyebrow. You think you can find an empty spot for one?

I have plenty of empty spots, but I’m more interested in convincing you to get one.

Me? Get a tattoo?

He grins, those dimples of his popping deeply in his cheeks. It’d be hot.

I roll my eyes. You think everything is hot.

Only about you. He stands up, before walking over and reaching down to me.

My hand clasps his as he lifts me up with sheer strength. Before I know it, I’m standing chest to chest with him, putting my arms around his neck to stabilize myself.

He looks down at me. What do you say?

I’m wavering, should I go or shouldn’t I?

I know what I want to do, I also know what the record company would tell me to do months ago.

And that little bit of rebellion is how I ended up gripping EJ’s hand at a tattoo parlor on South Broadway grimacing while a gun buzzes against my side.

Chapter One

EJ

I’m in my element as I sit in the darkness of the parlor on Broadway. The loud rock music with the booming bass is slightly muted where we are, but it still flows through my body as I listen. My thumb beats a rhythm against my thigh in tune with the shredding of the guitar. There’s chatter on the other side of the curtain from the main floor, and the flashing neon lights could mistake this place for a strip joint if they didn’t proclaim it to offer body ink and piercings so prominently.

I’ve been coming here since my dad brought me for my first tattoo on my sixteenth birthday. There’s been at least twenty more ." Since then Mom just about murdered him, and the fight had been interesting for me to watch. Especially since Dad had been made to sign his permission, because I was underage. They argued for over a week, until I told Mom it had been the one present I’d wanted for my birthday.

For as long as I can remember I’ve always craved to be like my dad, and one of the most noticeable attributes he has are his tattoos. Very early in my life, I knew I wanted to adorn my body with the pieces of artwork like he did, and it was a special moment for him to be able to bring me here. It means a lot I’m sharing the experience with my wife right now.

Bri and I are in our own room. I like to call it mine, actually. It’s the one I always use when I come here to get a tattoo. Tonight though, we’re in it together, after I’ve convinced her to get one with me. My regular tattoo artist escorted us in with a huge smile on his face. I owe him fifty extra bucks when we leave here. At the session where I got my tattoo for her, he’d told me she’d be in at some point. I’d said no, and now here we are.

I’m already done. Not much of my skin is empty enough to get ink, so by default mine is a smaller one. A script B over my heart, along with the date of our wedding.

Yeah, yeah, people like to bitch that it’s the kiss of death to get a tattoo featuring your significant other, but not me. For me, marriage is meant to be for life. I’m not scared to have her mark on me forever.

You nervous? I grin as I lean over to where Bri is lying on the flattened out chair.

Umm, yeah! Her blue eyes sparkle as they look over at me. But it’s exciting too, she whispers.

We’re in the room alone while my buddy, Tag, is getting his equipment ready. A smirk covers my face as I lean in next to her ear. Exciting how?

I know my girl. There’re many ways this could be exciting for her, and I’m beyond curious to know which one she’s talking about.

She moves her head so that her mouth is right over my ear. The moist heat of her breath caresses the skin. You know.

The way she drawls her words out makes me squirm in my seat. Rubbing the back of my fingers against her exposed side, I take in the goosebumps that have appeared, and the way she shivers when the metal of my wedding ring skims her skin. My voice is low, a bit of a deeper octave when I turn the tables on her. Why don’t you tell me?

Her cheeks turn a bright pink. Evidence of where her thoughts are. Part of me wonders if she’s still slightly embarrassed about how we react to one another. I might be a bastard, but I love making her uncomfortable, want to test the boundaries she lays down, and ache to push her past her limits. Being around one another all the time has us more in tune than ever. The whole learning phase of a relationship? Ya know, the one we skipped? We’ve been doing a lot of that lately.

She leans in closer to me, melting into my touch. Honestly, there’s not much better than this. The trust I’ve earned, the liberties she’s allowed me to take with her, I’ve never had that with any other woman.

Her voice is on this side of seductive when she whispers into my ear this time.

Does it kind of turn you on when you get a tattoo? Because right now, I’m sitting here waiting and it kind of feels like foreplay.

My eyes roam up and down her body, stopping where her legs are squeezing together slightly. A sound works its way out from deep in my throat. Yeah, there’s something addictive about it. It hurts, but that hurt feels good. I can’t wait until you know what it feels like.

Me neither. She brushes her lips against my ear.

Fucking. Immediate. Hard. On.

I’m gonna make you pay for that.

Her lips quirk into an evil grin, and it’s possible what I said has backfired. God, I hope so.

Whatever I might have replied with is cut off by Tag walking back into the room. If he feels the sexual tension pouring off the both of us, he doesn’t say anything. I figure he’s used to it. There’s no telling how many times he’s probably gotten lucky in here.

I made that comment once, and all he gave me was a shit-eating grin.

Seems like he doesn’t kiss and tell.

So, this is for sure what you want, he asks Bri. It’s a medium-sized watercolor piece, bordered in grey, along with my initials that I personally wrote out.

Yeah. She nods. Might as well go big or go home, right?

He chuckles as he snaps on a pair of black latex gloves. I need you to be totally still so I can lay this stencil on.

Immediately, she does what he asks, and even that turns me on. She’s obedient in the best of ways. She reaches out, grabbing my hand as Tag does what he does best.

It’s gonna hurt, right?

Well, I mean, you’re a tough cookie. I reach out, tweaking her nose. So I’m sure you can take it.

That look even to you? Tag scoots back from where he’s been hunched over her body.

It’s funny, I pay more attention to what she’s having done to her than I’ve ever paid attention to what I’ve had done to me. Looks sick. I give him a smile.

Alright, Brianna, here we go.

She jumps slightly as the needles touch her skin. How’re you doin’?

Okay, it tickled right when he started, but I get the pain of it now.

Your side is one of the most painful places you can get, I told you that.

She rolls her eyes. I know, but I think it’ll look good when all is said and done.

Oh, I know it’ll look good.

I’m already imagining running my hands down it as I take her from behind as we’re lying side by side on our bed. Or when she wears those bikinis she likes to wear at the house. I can’t wait until it’s healed so I can trace the intricate designs with my tongue. Maybe I can convince her to get more. She’s wilder than she ever lets on to anyone else. A lot like my mom in that respect.

But I’ll never force her to do something she doesn’t want to do.

This though? I’ll remember it for the rest of our lives.

My cock punching at the zipper of my jeans makes sure I will.

Do you need a break? Tag asks her as we approach the third hour.

She’s taken it like a champ, only once or twice have I seen her grimace when he’s hit a particularly sensitive piece of flesh. I’m proud of her. If truth be told, I sorta thought she’d ask to stop halfway through this, but if how far she’s already come is any indication, she’s gonna finish it out.

How close are you to being done? Bri looks over her shoulder at him.

He leans back, stretching before he shrugs. Give or take, forty-five minutes.

Do you need a break?

I love how she worries about others. There were girls I dated who didn’t give a shit about the people in their lives, whether they were people paid to be there, or not. Bri cares about everyone.

Nope, if you can handle it, I can handle it, he assures her.

Alright, let’s keep going.

She’s still holding my hand, her fingers walk up mine, playing with the wedding band circling my finger. Watching her caress the eternal loop is special. There were times in my life I never thought I’d have this with anyone, and for us to find it the way we did? I think if anyone knew our true story, they’d think we were crazy. Maybe we are, but if there’s anyone I want to be crazy with ,it’s her. You wear this all the time, she muses. To be honest, I thought you wouldn’t. Like you would when I was around, but when I went away you’d immediately take it off.

Of course. I lean down, putting my elbows on the table, but making sure I do it carefully so I don’t disturb Tag. I want people to know I have a wife at home. I want other dudes to know you have a husband who will kick some ass if they come near you.

Like I wouldn’t yank out a bitch’s hair if she came near you.

Both Tag and I chuckle at her words. She’s small and there’s no doubt she’d be the underdog of any fight she managed to get into, but the way she says it makes me think I’m underestimating her.

Are you feeling rude because you’re hurting?

No. She shakes her head. I’m just thinking about some woman trying to steal you.

Leaning closer, I kiss the tip of her nose. There’s no one else for me, babe. You’re it.

Whether you knew it or not?

Whether I knew it or not.

Chapter Two

Bri

Turning into the mirror, I pivot on my big toe, leaning into the turn, pushing my arm outward so I can see the tattoo I got last night. I’ve just taken the plastic wrap off, glad I had it on, because it definitely would have stained our bed.

How’s it feel?

A smirk spreads across my face as my husband walks into the room. He’s deep-voiced and sleepy-eyed, hair slightly going every which way, a couple days of stubble on his cheeks and chin.

Good. I’m trying to reach around and put the ointment on they gave me.

I’ll do it, he offers, coming up behind me. His arms box me in, pressing me up against the vanity. His long reach allows him to turn the water on and wash his hands with me standing there.

You could have asked me to move, I huff, but I don’t mean it. We both know I never meant it.

Then I couldn’t do this, he whispers, dropping his lips down to my shoulder, placing a barely-there kiss. It’s enough to cause gooseflesh to ripple across my skin.

My body melts back into him. It should almost be shameful the way I give myself over to this man, the easy way he’s worked himself into my life. A life I don’t even truly remember before he was in it. Back when we met in Vegas, I’d been so unhappy, trapped with parents and expectations of people who didn’t give a shit about me.

This man right here? I look up and our eyes meet in the mirror. He loves me with everything he has, and I have no doubt he’d kill someone who tried to take advantage of me. It’s the once-in-a-lifetime love I dreamed about as a child. Somehow I got it and I’m never giving it back.

What? He quirks his lips.

Nothing, I shake my head. Just admiring the hot man I married.

His quirk turns into a full-on smile, dimples and all, and a little puff of breath comes out between his lips, hitting my skin where he drops his forehead onto me for a moment. "Luckiest man in