Her Hi-Fi Hunk: A Beach Avenue Babes Romance

by Knox, Abby

  Of course it’s not Walter. It’s Jed. My heart pounds for a totally different reason.

  He’s carrying his guitar.

  I open the door. “What time is it?”

  “I don’t know but I got something to say. Can I come in?”

  I stand aside and let him in.

  We walk over to the bed and I gesture for him to have a seat, because there’s not really anywhere else to sit in the guest cottage.

  I feel exposed in my baggy tee-shirt and undies. I forgot to pack pajamas, so this is all I have to wear to bed.

  I listen as Jed strums his guitar and sings to me.

  This is the most surreal experience I’ve ever had. Big Daddy himself is singing me a song, and I’ve never heard of it before.

  It’s about how his hands don’t know what to do without me to hold on to. He can’t breathe unless the room is full of my perfume. He can’t watch another sunset without me next to him.

  When the song is finished, I shyly admit I’ve never heard it before.

  “That’s because I just wrote it a minute ago.”

  I laugh. “Wow, how long have I been asleep?”

  “Too long if you’re sleeping without me. That song is for you, Dusty.”

  Words fail me.

  My heart is pounding but words won’t come because my mouth has completely dried up.

  “A very smart person told me to get my ass over here and lock you down.”

  My voice is wavering. “If this isn’t real, if this is a dream, I will flat out die.”

  He says, “I just wanted to let you know I’m dead serious about you, and the reason I hesitated back there is because I’ve only ever slept with one other woman. Darlene and I waited until we were married. The rock and roll lifestyle never appealed to me. I guess I’m a goody-goody, but nobody believes it. So that’s it.”

  He looks at me and I look back at him. Soon, a smile creeps across both our faces.

  I shouldn’t be the first to say it. But when the spontaneity hits me, watch out.

  “Then let’s just get married,” I say.

  Chapter 11

  Jed

  “I’m supposed to be the one to ask that,” I say, my chest aching at what Dusty has just said to me.

  “Then ask me.”

  “Fine, I will.”

  “Do it.”

  “OK.” My knees creak as I slide off the bed and down to one knee.

  I take both her hands in mine and I hand her my guitar pick. “I don’t got a ring, but I got this. Will you be my wife?”

  “I’ve done crazier things on impulse,” she says. “Sure, let’s do it.”

  Chapter 12

  Dusty

  It feels a little weird that Jed only kissed me goodnight and left again.

  But Lord I want to marry him. As I meditate on the beach in my tee-shirt and undies the next morning, I suddenly have a massive realization.

  “Holy shit, I’ve never been married before.”

  It should be obvious, but it’s just not something I think about. Since Walter, I’ve been a serial, casual dater. But ultimately, there was no one I deemed good enough to have an influence on Zara, always my top priority.

  The morning breeze on my face is deepening my state of relaxation and making me more certain that I’m doing the right thing.

  Hell, I’m 42 and all our kids are grown, it’s not like we’re ruining anybody’s lives if it doesn’t work out.

  But on some level—all the levels—I know it will.

  The smell of salt air is suddenly mixed with cedar and desert sage and all of my senses are aroused. He’s here.

  My eyes remain closed as I allow myself to enjoy him being nearby. Soon his lips are on my cheeks, my chin, my neck and finally my mouth.

  “You’re supposed to be getting dressed,” he murmurs between kisses.

  I chuckle and press my hand to his stubbled cheek. He rubs against my palm and it sends shivers everywhere.

  “What do I wear to a city hall wedding at the last minute?”

  “Marti’s taking care of everything,” he says. Before I can stop him, he’s scooping me up and carrying me to the house, where Marti is waiting for me in her room with a beautiful summer yellow dress and a bouquet of lavender from her garden.

  My friend wraps me in a hug and squeals.

  “You’re not mad?” I ask.

  “Are you kidding? This is all I ever wanted for you.”

  Chapter 13

  Jed

  It’s tough to keep a wedding a secret when you’re a celebrity, but I pulled some strings at city hall and I managed to bring a retired magistrate to the house, who witnessed us fill out the proper forms and agreed to marry us on the spot.

  It’s a beautiful day on the beach, but none of it compares to my bride in her yellow dress with purple flowers in her hair. I’m wearing a white suit with the cuffs rolled up because we’re both barefoot.

  Galen and Marti have told no one, and they are our sole witnesses.

  The ceremony is so quick, I can barely believe it when the magistrate announces us husband and wife.

  I’m so happy I can’t help but grab her so tight while we kiss that her feet leave the ground. It’s easier this way, with her petite frame and my taller and not-so-petite build.

  We kiss like that for a while. I’m not sure how much time passes but eventually someone taps me on the shoulder and reminds us we have to sign the certificate.

  I can’t do it fast enough, because I need to get my bride back to my house.

  Our house.

  Chapter 14

  Jed

  I have to ask her.

  “Are you disappointed you didn’t get a real wedding?”

  Dusty is knee deep in my record collection, sitting cross-legged on the floor of my media room, marveling at all the rare vinyl, half of which came from her store.

  She looks up at me with a sparkle in her eye. “Did we just get married for real? Then it’s a real wedding!”

  Her spirit astonishes me. Just being around her makes me feel ten years younger. “Well, yes, you are legally my wife...”

  My wife. It’s surreal how easy it is to say it.

  “I just wondered if you regret not having a big reception with all your friends, most importantly your daughter.”

  She looks up at me and smiles. “I try not to think too much about regrets.”

  My heart soars at the knowledge of how perfect she is for me.

  “You pick something to set the mood yet, wife?”

  “Not yet, I can’t decide between ‘Darling Nikki’ and Justin Timberlake,” she says, tapping a finger to her bottom lip thoughtfully.

  “How about something a little more old-school?”

  She giggles, “Oh my god, those are my old-school picks.”

  I can’t wait any longer to taste her. “That’s it.” I swiftly hoist her up over my shoulder after grabbing a classic Marvin Gaye album out of the selection she has strewn across the floor, and set it on the turntable before activating the whole-house sound system.

  She weighs almost nothing as I carry her, but it could just be because she makes me feel taller and stronger than Hagrid. Yeah, as much as I fucked up as a parent for being away so much, one thing I did correctly was read Harry Potter with my kids.

  We arrive down the hall at my bedroom—our bedroom—where I gently lay her down on my new California king. Dusty rolls to her side and pets the blankets. “Fancy,” she marvels.

  I slide up beside her on the comforter and use my fingers to comb her hair from her eyes. “I like you.”

  “Back atcha,” she sighs, tilting her body backward, letting her knees fall open.

  This prompts an involuntary growl from my throat. “Don’t open your thighs to me unless you plan on squeezing my head while I eat your pussy.”

  She purrs right into my mouth with a salacious kiss.

  “Absolutely, you’re going to eat my pussy, but first, something else,” she says, her sexy
voice going even duskier than I thought possible.

  “Anything, darlin’.”

  “You might think it’s weird, but ever since I met you in person, there’s something I’ve been wanting to do.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Mark you,” she whispers, a pink color rising in her cheeks.

  I can be a little dense sometimes, and I say, “We can go get wedding rings tomorrow, if you’re talking about outward appearances.”

  Dusty glances down and bites her lip.

  “No, it’s not that. Out of nowhere, I just have this crazy urge to mark you, with my juice.”

  “Oh. OK.”

  Nobody’s ever said this to me before, but hell. If Dusty wants it, Dusty gets it.

  “Look, babe, whatever you need to do, let’s do it. I’ve got all night and two more whole days before my next tour date...”

  “Lie down,” she commands me.

  Is there any point in doing anything but what a woman like this tells me to do? I think not.

  Seconds later, I’m on my back, still dressed. She has me unbuttoning my dress shirt, opening it wide and exposing my undershirt while she climbs on top of me. She’s up on her knees, straddling my hips, unbuckling my belt. Unbuttoning my jeans and unzipping my fly.

  She’s reaching her hand inside to cup her hands around the bulge in my drawers.

  My breath hitches when her hands warm over my cock.

  “God. Damn. You’re so hard.”

  “Sweetheart, my pecker has been pitching a tent trying to get at you since I saw you on the deck last night.”

  “Think you can last a few more minutes?”

  “That’s one advantage of being my age, I can come on command or not at all or anything in between. You set the pace.”

  I try to tug my undershirt off, but she stays my hand.

  “I told you it’s weird. Just hang on.”

  “OK,” I say, not sure what’s going to happen next.

  What does happen is she starts climbing me like a tree, a tree that’s on the ground. She’s inching up all the way to my chest, until her pussy is a breath away from my face.

  It’s not until then that her body starts to buck against me. Her pelvis thrusts against my chest, grinding her pussy on my shirt. It’s strange but deeply erotic and I’m all about it.

  “Babe, you’re so wet I can feel it through shirt.”

  “Good,” she says. “Take it all. Take all of my juice.”

  “I’d like it better if I could swallow it.”

  “You will, in a minute. Now, take off your shirt.”

  She sits up on her knees and gives me room to help me remove my undershirt. She holds it up to my face.

  I take a whiff and it smells like some other level of heaven made of Dusty. I can’t respond except for a low moan from deep inside my chest.

  “I’m going to take this shirt on tour with me and I’m not gonna wash it. It smells like us together. I’m going to sleep with it every night.

  “Oh my god, thank you for not thinking I’m weird.”

  “And every night after a show I’m going to smell it and jerk off, and then fall asleep with it under my pillow.”

  A wicked smile creeps across her face. “You forgot one part of that equation,” she says.

  “What’s that?”

  “The part where you call me while you’re doing it so I can hear you come.”

  “Come here, woman.” I wrench her down so I can kiss her mouth with a thirsty, penetrating tongue, which she accepts with ferocity.

  Then I flip her over to the sound of squeals of surprise followed by excited laughter.

  My beard gently sandpapers her thigh as I nibble my way across her skin, all the way up to her pussy.

  She sighs. “Stroke me with that silver beard, Big Daddy.”

  I splay open her natural pussy with my fingers, getting a look at her glistening pink sex.

  “You’re dripping for me, Dusty. It’s so beautiful.”

  I pull back the front of her crevice and easily find her swollen clit. My mouth is watering to taste her.

  When I do, it’s the sweetest honey I’ve ever tasted. Like she made it just for me.

  I feel her body react at the touch of my mouth, my beard at the center of her. It’s a jerk followed by a deliciously wanton thrust. Every lick, every taste, every plunge of my tongue into her sends Dusty pressing her body more firmly into my grateful mouth.

  Between kissing, licking, devouring her, I murmur against her labia, “Mine. My pussy. All mine.”

  With every rumble of my voice vibrating against her tender skin, her moans grow longer, louder, more insistent.

  I tease her by giving her a lighter touch with my tongue. Backing out to feather kisses across her milky thighs.

  Soon enough her fingers tighten in my hair. “Fuck you, get it done. Don’t fuck with a pre-menopausal woman’s orgasm, Jed.”

  “Yes ma’am,” I reply and then suction my lips around her clit and suck on it, teasing it with my tongue while massaging her labia with one hand and pushing one finger, two fingers, then three fingers into her sheath.

  Her orgasm nearly rattles the windows in this tiny cottage. Her body jerks; she screams; her pussy clamps down; she gushes out yet more of her sweet essence. I’m drunk on her wine.

  The fingers she has laced through my hair pull exquisitely at my scalp as she rides the waves of her climax. I suck until she pulls me away from her sensitive core, unable to take much more.

  “You’re good, a little too good,” she breathes as I scoop her up in my arms.

  “Nothing’s too good for my Dusty,” I say, kissing her damp forehead and brushing back some hair out of her face.

  Without another word, she’s got her hand inside my undies and is pumping me like I didn’t just completely zap out all of her energy.

  “Babe you don’t have to.”

  “Shh,” she says.

  Before I know what’s happening she’s got me in her mouth. Dusty is teasing the tip with her tongue, exploring the ridge under the tip, sucking off the pre-cum with a gratuitous little pop.

  “Tastes like candy. You must take good care of yourself.”

  “I love me a filthy woman who’s aiming to ruin me for anyone else.”

  “I better or I’m not doing my job. Speaking of jobs…”

  Dusty blows my mind as I watch her. She licks her palms, takes in as much of me as she can, and uses her hands to get me wet all the way to the base.

  She sucks me off like a pro. Like she actually enjoys it.

  I never blamed Darlene for not wanting to blow me. This whole time I thought all women hated doing it.

  But Dusty…she likes it.

  She likes my dick.

  “How did I get so goddamn lucky…”

  And just as she opens her throat to take more of me in, there’s a security alert. Someone is ringing the bell.

  Dusty pops off my cock and sits up. “What’s that?”

  “Don’t worry about it, babe, someone’s probably just trying to peek through the gate. Happens all the time.”

  She isn’t going to settle back into our wedding night lovemaking until I deal with this. So I check the webcam. But it’s not the gate. Someone is ringing the bell at the back door. It’s Galen.

  There’s no way he would ever interrupt this without a good reason.

  “Better go see what he wants. Could be an emergency,” she says.

  I cuss and I grumble as I get up, pulling on some pajama pants. “Emergency or not, he’s still going to get a boot up the ass.”

  Chapter 15

  Dusty

  There are about seven voicemails from Zara.

  Apparently Marti was going to do me a favor by bringing my things from the guest house over to Jed’s. She found my phone, all out of juice, and had been charging it for me. When it came on again, she saw the multiple voicemail alerts.

  I brace myself to listen to them, but I only need to hear the first one t
o know that all hell has broken loose. The news is not good.

  “Walter’s out already. And he’s been to see Zara…oh man I really fucked up.”

  I phone her back and it’s an ugly scene. She very correctly calls me on the carpet for misleading her about Kai’s identity. She’s upset that I wasn’t there to deal with Walter.

  I hang up the phone unable to speak, though I need to get back to Sea Grove immediately.

  And then Jed has an irrational idea.

  “Let me fly you back to Sea Grove tonight.

  “That’s crazy,” I breathe. “You leave for a tour in two days. You need your sleep.

  Besides, how will my car get back?”

  “I’ll have my drivers take it to you.”

  I am incredulous. “Drivers…plural?”

  “Darlin’, I don’t play this card a lot, but I’m Jed fucking Masters. I have drivers for my drivers. I’ll fly you home on my Beechcraft right now and have my guys drop your car at your place in less than six hours.”

  I look him in the eyes. “You’d better be really fucking serious about this offer. The faster you can get me home, the better.”

  “Serious as a heart attack.”

  We board his aircraft at the small hangar up the road, and we are in the air in moments.

  “It’s not what I imagined your private plane would be,” I say.

  “What do you think?”

  “The headgear is a nice touch. And the fact that you’re flying it yourself is pretty fuckin’ hot.”

  “Oh, did I not mention that I’ve got my pilot license?” He smirks.

  Of course he does.

  “It’s sort of making me want to finish what I started earlier,” I purr into the headset.

  “No can do, babe. Too many instruments to do the old-school blowjob while driving trick.”

  I reach over and put my hand on his thigh. “Oh, but you must be so frustrated that you didn’t finish.”

  He chuckles. “The only thing I’m frustrated about is I don’t know when I’m going to see my wife again.”