CHAPTER TWO
**
He stared into my eyes as he sang the lyrics to my requested song and my heart, already soft where he was concerned, melted completely. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. Any time he glanced at me, they were waiting, overflowing with powerful emotions I’d never felt before—and going by the sparkle in his, he heartily approved of my reaction.
Sooner than I expected, the familiar chords to Closing Time were wrapping around me. My pulse pounded in my ears; I couldn’t catch my breath. Very soon, I was going to be alone with the enigmatic Jessie Robertson. Possibilities flooded my mind, of liberties I’d never allowed anyone else but, for inexplicable reasons known only to my heart, I wanted to allow him. Was I crazy? Maybe. Would it stop me, if the opportunity arose? Not likely. I’d never felt this way about anyone before.
I thought we’d never get out of there. Every person in the bar wanted to shake his hand and get his autograph so that, when he became a big time star, they could say yeah, I knew about him when he was just getting started, and was forced into an unscheduled stop at Bartholomew’s down in central Louisiana. And, grinning ear to ear, he stood there at the edge of that ramshackle stage, writing whatever they asked, for well over an hour. It might have gone on the rest of the night, too, if it hadn’t been for Benny booting them all out the front door and sneaking us out the back.
“Thanks, Benny,” I whispered as he pushed the door closed.
“Least I could do.” He shrugged. “You was right. I ain’t sweeping up glass.” He studied Jessie. “Maybe you can come back when you make it big—we don’t get many big names in these parts. Shreveport and New Orleans, but not here.”
“Maybe I will.” He shook the older man’s hand, with a shy grin pushing back the darkness in his green eyes. “If I make it.”
Benny snorted, rolling his eyes. “Listen to him…if—pssh, yeah, right. I saw that suit give you his business card.” And, with that, he closed the door.
“Ready to go?”
I looked up. “I’m ready.”
“Did you drive?”
I shook my head, not worried about my car out here in the middle of nowhere. “I’ll pick it up later.”
“You sure?” I nodded, and he led me over to a beat up black van with blacked out windows. Holding the passenger door open, he helped me climb in. Then, in the driver’s seat, he asked, “Any place to eat, this time of night?”
“Just the little cafe in the motel down the street. Rita’s the overnight Jill-of-all-trades—she answers the phones, checks in guests, brings extra towels and prepares and delivers a few items on the pared down nighttime menu for guests who get the munchies. It isn’t a four-star restaurant, but the food’s pretty good.”
“The Bayou Moon Motel and Cafe? That’s where I’m staying. Would it be too forward of me to invite you to my room for a bite to eat and a late-night movie on the TV?”
“No, it wouldn’t be too forward.” I was grateful for the darkness that hid my pink cheeks. “I’d love to come to your room.”
“Great. You’re safe with me. I’ll be the perfect gentleman.”
“I’m not worried.” I looked away, worried he would see something in my face that might give me away—because I had no intention of acting like the proper lady my momma raised me to be. I might never see him again, and I wanted at least one night to remember him by.
We got to the room and he called room service. Rita recommended waffles with a side of bacon. While we waited, he grabbed the remote and we sat on the king bed, a respectable three feet of empty mattress between us.
He hit the power button, and looked at me. “Any special requests?”
My eyes were glued to the screen, where a musclebound hunk was going down on a busty blond with a thin landing strip that in no way matched her platinum hair. My voice unnaturally high, I squeaked, “This looks good.”
“Seriously?” He swallowed hard when he saw what was on the TV. “You want to watch porn?”
“Well…it was already on that channel—“ I shrugged, trying for a neutral expression that wouldn’t betray how damp my panties were becoming, “And I’ve never watched it before—but if it’s something you enjoy, I’m game.”
“If it’s—“ He pressed the off button and the screen went dark. “You think I was watching that channel before I went to the bar?”
“Weren’t you?”
“Um, uh…” He refused to meet my eyes, but I already knew the answer. The tops of his ears and the back of his neck, where his hair had fallen forward and left it exposed, were crimson.
“Be honest.”
“I was nervous. I needed a distraction.”
“It looked to be quite distracting.”
“Callie, that’s not the kind of thing you watch with a good girl. That’s the kind of thing you watch with a girl you want to score with.”
I met his eyes, letting him see the emotions swirling inside of me—emotions he’d awakened, first, in a photograph, then more powerfully, in person, with the passion in his music. “Maybe I don’t want to be a good girl tonight.”
“Callie—“
“No. You’re leaving in the morning. I may never see you again.” I blinked through a hot blur of tears I refused to let fall. “This may be our only time together. I don’t want to look back, years from now, and think about what could have been. I don’t want to wish I’d acted—I want to just do it…live in the moment—no regrets.”
“It definitely won’t be our only time together, not if I have any say in it,” he assured me.
“I hope not,” I whispered, my voice so low I barely heard me.
“It won’t.” Squeezing my hand, he added, “Are you sure you’re ready for this? We don’t have to…I can wait.”
I felt the sting of a solitary tear as it escaped and tracked down my cheek. My heart melted inside my chest. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
I couldn’t tell you who made the first move toward who. All I know is that mere moments after the words left my lips, I was in his arms, my mouth pressed to his, our tongues dueling like the world was going to end at dawn. We rolled back and forth across that huge bed, from corner to corner, edge to edge. Shirts were shed, and my bra followed soon after. A knock on the door froze us in place.
“Room service.”
He stared at me, questioning, so I raised my voice. “Leave it by the door, please.”
As if I’d said the magic words to release him from his frozen state, he was all over me. His hands were on my breasts, my back, my ass; his lips were on my neck, his jeans-clad leg pressed to the weeping juncture of my thighs. My fingers were buried in the silky warmth of his shoulder length brown waves, and I squeezed my thighs together around his, rubbing the area of my greatest need against the smooth denim material.
When he cupped my breast and I felt the liquid fire of his mouth engulf the pebbled tip, I came unglued, arching off the mattress in an attempt to place more of my starved flesh against the heat of his hungry lips. I wanted less, but I wanted more at the same time. I wanted the feelings he inspired in the center of me to never end, to go on forever in a universal glitch that would hold us here, body to body in an endless loop of time. We wouldn’t starve, couldn’t die, because this few seconds would repeat over and over throughout infinity. Or that was what I wanted until his trembling fingers slid up the soft skin of my inner thigh to creep beneath the elastic leg of my bikini panties. As he started to explore, sliding deeper into the hidden recesses of my untried body, my legs parted of their own free will, spreading wide to encourage even more exploration.
After taking my hand and pressing it to the hard bulge behind the zipper of his pants, he returned his attention to removing the last of my clothes. I froze. Unsure of what to do, but unwilling to admit it and risk ruining the moment, I thought back to late night sleepovers with my best friend and whispered conversations in the privacy of her bedroom. Lucy kept a steady boyfriend all through high school, and had had no compunction over sharing play by play descriptions of her adventures with her curious best friend.
Noticing my lack of movement, Jessie leaned back to meet my eyes. His were filled with a mix of concern and passion. His voice low, he asked, “What’s the matter, baby? Do you want to stop?”
“No!” I shook my head hard enough to tousle my hair, my earnest eyes wide. “I, uh, I was waiting for you to undress, too.”
He grinned, a wicked glint in those gorgeous eyes. “You don’t want to undress me?”
“I can, but you’ll have to let me up…”
Blinking, as if just realizing I was on my back, his hand busy between my widespread legs, he debated for several seconds. Then holding up a damp finger, he pulled away just long enough to shed everything but his socks. “There.”
“Wait!” Stopping him in mid-lunge, before he could climb back in beside me, I let my eyes roam across his toned, muscular body. I visually worshipped his broad shoulders, his bulging biceps, his well-formed pecs, topped with flat, tan nipples. I drooled over his lightly defined six-pack, and licked suddenly dry lips at the sight of his sex—jutting tall and proud from a neatly trimmed patch of pubic hair. Was he big? I wasn’t sure, having no experience to compare with, but his measurements looked impressive to me, standing tall enough to almost hide his navel from my view. I dropped my eyes to sleek, muscled thighs and calves to finish my perusal, then cleared my throat and whispered, “Turn around.”
“Excuse me?”
I met his eyes. “I might not get another chance to see you naked. I want to burn the memory into my brain, never to be forgotten—so yeah, turn around…please?”
“You’re worried about forgetting me before I come back? Take a picture. Grab your phone and take a picture—hell, take two. I’ll turn around and you can get both sides. But hurry—please—the expression in your eyes…you’re killing me.”
I no longer needed to pull up the words of my friend to give me ideas. Having seen his body, I had some ideas of my own. I knew what I wanted—needed—to do. I was dying to kiss, nibble or lick every inch of his flesh I could reach. I wanted the taste of him engraved on my tongue, the honeyed sweetness of his kisses, the salty tang of his skin, the earthy taste of his seed. Moving fast as I could, I snapped the pictures. I even allowed him to take a few of me—not wanting him to forget me while he was gone, either…on the off chance that he meant what he said about coming back. Then, tossing the phones aside, I held out my arms.
Rolling him onto his back as he came down on top of me, I took control. I kissed him with all of the pent-up passion bubbling up in me. I kissed his lips, his eyelids, his cheeks. I nibbled his ears, bit a trail down the cords of his neck, licked across his chest to suck and bite his flat male nipples. When he attempted to flip me onto my back, I straddled his hips, licking and biting a path down the muscles of his stomach, sliding my tongue down his happy trail, then licking up and down his weeping shaft, sampling the salty flavor if his pre-cum wherever I found it.
As I closed my lips around the tip of his hardness, he won the battle and, seconds later, I found myself flat on my back beneath him. I pouted up at him. “I wasn’t finished.”
“Well, that’s too freaking bad, because I damn sure almost was.”
I blinked at him, nonplussed. “You don’t want me to make you cum?”
“Hell yes, I want you to make me cum—when I’m buried to the hilt inside your sweet, slippery walls, unable to work my way in any deeper…and ideally after you’ve cum more times than I can count, and I’m about to go out of my mind with need—then, and only then, I want to cum.”
“Oh.” My eyes widened when he captured my wrists in one hand and slid lower, kissing a ticklish line down the goose bump coated flesh of my tummy, headed south. The few seconds of video I’d watched earlier flashed through my mind. The reality, when it happened, was so much more intense than I ever dreamed it could be. I writhed under the attentions of his skilled lips, tongue and fingers, whimpering his name as I peaked again and again.
When I could no longer think straight, my brain oozing orgasmic mush, he retraced his trek back up my body to my lips and shared the salty sweet flavors of my passion with me. As he did, he entered me with one fierce roll of his hips, burying himself inside me before I even registered the pinching sting of his claiming. I’d been expecting excruciating pain, and had intended to tell him he was my first so he’d go slow—so I was pleasantly relieved to find it nothing like I thought it’d be. My worries fled my mind, along with my intentions to tell him I wasn’t on birth control, as soon as he started to move, pulling almost all the way out and plunging back in, setting a pounding rhythm that had me dancing to the tune he played on my body. By the time we finished, an unknown amount of time later, I was kneeling on my knees at the edge of the mattress with him standing behind me, pounding into me as I screamed his name. Exhausted, I collapsed across the bed with him cuddled close behind me, and we slept.