Darling Melody

Darling MelodyThe Muse SeriesAddison CarterJ A Publishing Copyright © 2023 J A PublishingAll rights reservedThe characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.ISBN-13: 9781234567890ISBN-10: 1477123456Cover design by: AF DesignsLibrary of Congress Control Number: 2018675309Printed in the United States of America Contents Title PageCopyrightBefore you continue...Dedication1234567891011121314151617181920212223242526EpilogueAcknowledgementsBooks by Addison CarterFollow AddisonSupport Before you continue...Hey there, I'm so glad you've picked up Darling Melody. This book contains some material that some readers might find difficult to read.Please follow my social media links (found at the back of the book) to find a list of warnings. If you have any concerns regarding anything, listed or not, please do not hesistate to reach out via direct message or email.Email: [email protected]: @Addisoncarterauthor For Jack Black. Don't ask me why. 1Melolagnia – Sexual arousal caused by music. Could you imagine having that and being the guitarist of a rock band? Yeah, me neither. Could I imagine it as the singer of a rock band though? Abso-fucking-lutely. Some days it was amazing, others it could drive me insane. Standing on a stage soaking my panties because of the music vibrating through my body, penetrating my fucking soul. Sometimes I could get so turned on it was actually embarrassing, but I wouldn’t want to change a thing. I wouldn’t switch careers over it, because up on that stage is the only time that I truly feel alive. Carefree.Me.Cole calls me a sound slut, I guess he’s right about that, although it’s not all sounds, just music. Not even all music really, but annoyingly, our music really does it for me. Luckily, Cole is the only one of my bandmates who knows about my little turn-on. Although, I’m not always sure how lucky that truly is. Cole likes to tease me, always has done, ever since we first met in college, but over the years his teasing has gone from criticising my crushes to playing a rapid drumroll, or a thrashing strike of a cymbal just because he knows I’ll struggle to hide my reaction. Dick. Every night when we come off stage, I sneak off to the tour bus, close the door to the back room that houses the bulk of our clothes and a double bed that I have claimed as my own, with its crossed-over lightsabers mounted above the headboard, and rummage around in my locked bedside drawer for the perfect toy. Ten minutes later—fifteen on a bad night—I’m stepping back off of the tour bus with flushed cheeks and a satisfied pussy, ready to go and hang out with my boys. Each night on tour is always different from the last, sometimes it’ll be a chilled-out, quiet one, other times it’s a raging party that ends up with someone losing a whole lot more than just their dignity. On those nights, anything goes, but we have always had one consistent rule on tour; no hook-ups allowed on the bus.That was something that had never been an issue for me. I was quite content to snuggle with whichever drunken member of my band climbed into my bed to make up for the lack of physical touch, but I’ve never craved or desired a wild night with a fan. Not like our resident playboy, Jordan, who soaked up the female attention, living his best stereotypical rockstar life. Sex, drugs, and rock and roll, baby. The number of times that I had walked out the back of a venue for some air and found him balls deep in a cute blonde—they were always blonde—was insane. I’ve seen more of him than any of my other bandmates, which is surprising since the five of us—Mav, Ro, Cole, Jordan, and me—have all lived together both on the road and in our house for the last four years. Four years of mind-blowing success that had finally taken our band to the next level. We had worked fucking hard for years before that to get here, starting off playing open mic nights back in college, and now, for the first time since we had been signed by our label, we had sold out our European tour.A tour that we kickstarted tonight with a hometown show in London. The atmosphere in the Brixton Academy, a venue where we had played as a support act once before, was incredible, and it made every little struggle that we had faced recently seem so much more worthwhile. Everything had gone to plan, we had the perfect opening act, Beauty Within, they were a new band who had studied under the same tutors who had taught the five of us back when we were in college. It already sounded like they had a bright future. I couldn’t wait to drag them along on the first half of our tour. For the second half, we were going to be joined by Fall From Grace, so long as their frontman sorted his priorities out, which at present, didn’t seem likely, but we’d cross that bridge when we came to it. That was what our manager, Garth, had said.Garth and I didn’t often see eye to eye, but he was reliable and good at his job. Things usually worked out in the end, and I had to remind myself that although the band meant everything to me, it was not my job to keep everything running smoothly. My job was to put on a show. Smile, and convince the fans that I wasn’t a pain-in-the-ass control freak with no reported sex life and a weird protectiveness over her bandmates.Sabrina was hovering out the back of the venue, inhaling the last drag of her cigarette before she stamped it out with her black heel. Her face lit up through an