One
Mary adjusted her top. It was tight. Too tight, even for her, and she’d chosen it to be tight. But once she started threatening to pop right out of it, things started to be a different question. She didn’t want anything popping until she made it back into the VIP room. Then, of course… well, then things would be a slightly different question.
The entire crowd had this wild energy, so strong and so crazy that she didn’t know how she could stand it any longer. Her throat hurt but she screamed.
“Come back!”
The entire stadium screamed it, all at once and at different times, layering over each other until it sounded like an indistinct roar. Then the spotlight turned back on with a loud thunk. And standing in the center of the stage, close enough that Mary felt as if she could reach out and touch him, Roman Townsend was holding a guitar. The rest of the band seemed to be gone.
What on earth…?
He started playing the guitar. It screamed out so loud that it felt as if it was going to burst her ears. The sound layered on top of each other until it was as much a texture as it was a tune.
The curtains opened. A man came on. Shirtless. Jeff Ramon, the drummer. His muscles stretched and contracted as he walked, and the sweat that everyone could see coating him made every part of him glisten as he walked. Then he settled onto his stool and watched Roman.
Then the drums hit. It was like being slapped in the face with sound, and the guitar became more coherent, more refined, just by the addition of that instrument.
The song continued. The bassist came out. Rhythm guitar next. And every time, the sound changed, until finally, the sound was that sound. The Roman Townsend sound. And then he stepped up to the mic, and started to sing. Mary felt her top threatening to pop off again, and at that point, it didn’t seem to matter all that much. Then again, nothing did, not any more.
Between the music and the party favors, she wasn’t too worried about much of anything.
“Roman! I love you!”
He pointed right at her, and winked. The song continued, until it couldn’t continue any more. And then the spotlights went dark, and the curtain closed, and the musicians left the stage.
Mary adjusted her top again. It was a hard come-down. But it always was, and the heights she’d reached were always worth it. She’d hoped… but, well. Whatever.
A man in a black tee shirt that stretched to show off how big and muscular he was stepped up to her. He set his jaw.
“Miss?”
“Is something wrong?” She knew there was nothing wrong. She’d been hoping for this. But it was better to assume the worst, rather than assume the best and end up embarrassing yourself.
“Mr. Townsend would like to see you.” She grinned hard. That was what I liked to hear.
His cock filled Mary’s mouth in a way that she couldn’t begin to understand. His hands dug into her hair, pushing and pulling. She ignored them. No, more than that—she defied them. She was confident about how to please a man, and she wasn’t going to let him think that he owned her. Not even Roman Townsend.
From the sounds he was making, she didn’t think that was a problem for him. She pulled off and took a breath.
“You like that, baby?”
“Why’d you stop?”
She smiled hard, and dipped her head again. His hands found her hair again, and found a grip on it. She liked it. It meant that he wanted it. It wasn’t just some convenient thing for him. He wanted her. Wanted what she could give him, at least.
She pulled off again, and he took a sharp breath. “I could do more than just that, you know,” she said, a suggestive edge to my voice.
“Yeah?”
“That’s right,” she growled. Neither of them had any confusion about what she could do.
“You’re very eager.”
“I just know what I want,” Mary said. She leaned toward him, her hand wrapped around his erection.
“What’s that?”
“I want you.”
“That’s a tall order,” he replied. He had an amused expression on her face. She moved her hand gently. “You sure you’re ready for me?”
“You should ask yourself the same question.”
Mary stood up and pulled her top off. Her breasts, barely suspended by the sheer tightness of the thing, fell out, and then she hiked her skirt up. There was nothing underneath them.
He just smiled at her, reached for her, and guided her hips towards him. Mary stepped forward, let her knees onto the chair straddling his hips. She reached down and lined herself up with him, and then slowly, agonizingly, she lowered herself down onto his shaft.
It stretched her out more than she’d expected. But she was so fucking wet and she was more than a little buzzed, and that made it easy to ignore the pain, in spite of herself. His hips stayed still. Studiously still.
One hand reached up, played with one of Mary’s large breasts. She closed her eyes in part to disguise the slight discomfort of being so impossibly full, and in part to indulge herself more in the pleasurable feelings.
Then she started to move her hips. He started to move his in time with her. His hands moved away from her breasts, down to her hips. She jack hammered on and off him, every movement driving him deeper home inside her. Mary’s head buzzed, her body surging with endorphins and chemical pleasure that only multiplied the feelings that he was giving her body. She let out a long, low moan, and moved harder, kept him deep inside her longer, and finally…
He shuddered under her, and she felt his warmth spreading through her. Mary let out a long, low breath and settled her head down into the crook of Roman’s shoulder. He held her close. Both of them were slick with sweat, and soon they’d be not just slick, but sticky.
But she was happy. Because this was the only thing that had ever even been on her 10-year-plan, and she’d gotten it done in record time.