by R. C. Martin
To deny my attraction to him would be a lie unworthy of the effort. Especially considering one glance in his direction, with the sound of his tenor voice swirling around me, totally turns me on. He wears his dark brown hair slicked to the side, like he walked straight out of the nineteen-fifties. As their set continues, a few strands fall out of place and he smooths them back. It’s an act of convenience, but he takes advantage of it as he throws a wink at the desperate girls in the front. They scream and he grins and I roll my eyes before I close them again, uninterested in watching him flirt with his groupies.
Even in the darkness behind my lids, I see him. I see the way his black t-shirt hugs his sculpted chest. I see the sleeve of tattoos that decorates his left arm. I picture his fitted, dark-washed jeans hanging low around his hips. And those red Chucks—the shoes he wears as he jumps, struts, and dances across that stage.
Shit. I need another drink and I need to get laid.
It’s true that I don’t get out much, but I’m no prude. When I have an itch, I know how to find someone to scratch it. I’m sure of two things when it comes to sex: with a little effort, I can coax a cock into my pussy; and when it’s all said and done, eventually, he’ll leave. They always do.
“Hey, Dancing Queen, we’re going to get another drink. Thirsty?” Aria asks, bumping her hip against mine. Aria and I don’t know each other very well, but she’s always incredibly nice to me. I like that about her. I don’t think twice before I answer with a smile and a nod. A drink is exactly what I need, and while I’m at it, I’ll scout the room for someone to help quench tonight’s thirst.
As we make our way off the dance floor, I notice that Sarah isn’t with us. Looking back over my shoulder, I see her dancing with the guy who came in earlier—his eyes glued to her like she was the only person in the entire universe. A pang of jealousy constricts my heart before I look away. It’s not Sarah that I envy. The look in her eyes when she explained to me that Brandon was her boss, coupled with the way their bodies are adhered to each other just now, I honestly hope it works out for them.
The ache in my chest has little to do with them and everything to do with what I can’t ever allow myself to believe I can have. I’ve tried love before and it has failed me every time. That kind of pain, that kind of abandonment, there’s only so much a girl can take before she decides her fragile heart just won’t survive another break. I know that I’m damaged goods, I know that my disposition isn’t soft and cuddly, I know that I’m not perfect—but I’m me. I don’t know how to be anyone else and nobody seems to be able to tolerate that truth. Or me. At least not for longer than a couple nights.
It is what it is. There’s no use crying about it, so I just accept it.
As soon as we arrive at the bar, Josh signals for the bartender. She heads our way, taking Aria’s order first, then mine. I ask for a gin and tonic, my drink of choice for the night. The woman behind the bar nods before she starts to prepare our order.
“Gin and tonic, huh? That’s a pretty bold drink for a little lady like yourself,” drawls the man behind me, who I assume is waiting to be served. I peek at him from over my shoulder, curious to see the face that goes with that country boy accent. He’s got a mop of curls on his head, which makes him seem boyish in that charming sort of way. He’s tall and bulky with muscle and I can see that his eyes are brown—brown, not icy blue; not framed by a pair of horn-rimmed glasses.
I shake the last thought away, wondering why in the hell I’m comparing this man to Sage, that arrogant little shit with a voice that’s dangerously alluring. He doesn’t need another admirer, of that I am sure.
Before I can think of a response, the cute guy with the country drawl reaches around me, clapping a few bills on the counter. “Her drink’s on me. I’ll have a Jack-n-coke.”
The back of my neck grows warm and my stomach tingles, the promise of a future bed fellow making me anxious with anticipation. “Thank you,” I murmur, looking up at him before taking my glass.
Aria nudges me gently with her elbow and I turn to meet her gaze. “We’re going to head back to our table. Are you alright?” I offer her a slight nod and she smirks at me knowingly in return. “You know where to find us.”
As soon as they leave, I turn back to my country boy. He grins at me before he holds out his hand. “I’m Dylan,” he tells me.
“Millie,” I reply, accepting his gesture.
“Have you been here before?”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes.
Really? Is that really the line he’s going to start with?
“Yeah,” I reply, hoping to move beyond his cliché icebreaker. “You?”
“A few times,” he answers before taking a swallow of his drink. “I like the live music. This band is alright.” He shrugs as he looks over his shoulder at the stage.
This time, I do roll my eyes. Mountains & Men are a hell of a lot better than alright. They’re actually really amazing. There’re six of them up there, and yet they sound so much bigger. I’d say it’s a combination of personality and talent. I look beyond Dylan and watch them for a moment.
The drummer plays with his whole body; his hard, sculpted chest, covered in only a tank-top, adding to his appeal. He thrusts his tongue out as his sticks fly across the drumheads and I can’t help but smile. The bass player is his contrast; he’s totally laid back, just as cool and relaxed as the notes he contributes.
There’s the guy on keys—but I know he’s bringing so much more. He’s the horn line and the electronica sound that adds another dimension of character to their sound. He looks lost in the music, playing on the keys while messing with his computer.
Of course, I can’t neglect the two hot fools now in the middle of the stage. Both electric guitar players sound like they’re in the middle of a riff battle and loving it. They’re playing back to back, bobbing their heads in unison.
Then there’s Sage.
Every musician on that stage is pouring out an energy that fills the entire room. Anyone with a pulse can feel it. But Sage—he’s a streak of light—blue, like the hottest part of a flame. As soon as the guys on their guitars finish their joint solo, they push away from each other and Sage emerges from behind them, sliding his way to the mic stand. He fists it with one hand, shoots his other in the air, and wails his way back into the lyrics.
I’m instantly covered in goosebumps.
“I take it you’re a fan?”
I bring my eyes back to the man standing in front of me, appalled at how easily I forgot him. Christ, what’s the matter with me? Sage isn’t even my type, so why on earth do my eyes keep drifting in his direction? He’s like those guys who spend hours flexing in front of every mirror they pass at the gym. I don’t allow men like that in my bed.
Except, Sage can sing like a fucking rockstar god.
I wonder if he sings to wet a girl’s pussy. It would totally work . . .
Oh, for fuck sake!
I take a swig of my drink, trying to find my words as I focus on Duncan. Or was it Denis? “Uh, yeah. This is my first time hearing them, but I think they’re kind of great.”
“To each his own, I guess,” he says with another shrug.
For reasons I can’t justify, rationalize, or understand, his dismissal—which doesn’t even have anything to do with me—rubs me the wrong way. Suddenly, my neck is no longer warm with my wanton anticipation and my insides are far from a flutter as I gape up at him.
“So, are you from around here?”
All of a sudden, I’m bored. I shake my head as I down half of my drink, my eyes seeking out my friends. “New Jersey,” I answer after I swallow, the gin warming my insides.
“Wow. What brought you out here?”
I sigh, honestly feeling sorry for the guy. I can’t blame him for trying, but he just hit the wrong button. I throw back the rest of my drink and set my glass on the bar. “My mom’s a bit of a bitch and we needed some space,” I say bluntly. I don’t know if it’s his choice of conversati
on or the alcohol in my system that drives my unforgiving rudeness, but I’ve got to get myself out of this. “It was nice meeting you. I should go find my friends now. Hope the next band is more to your liking.”
Fuck me, I think to myself as I walk away. I’m such a bitch.
“AWESOME SET, GUYS!”
“Yeah—you guys are amazing. When’s your next gig?”
“You got any of that shit online? I need it downloaded yesterday!”
We’re accosted by our fans as we carry all of our equipment from the stage out to the trailer Derrick’s got hitched to the back of his SUV. All six of us field their complements and their questions. Derrick answers inquiries about where we’ll be playing over the next few weeks; JJ is quick to hand out a couple of our flyers, telling people where they can go online and download our MP3s. I’m flying high as a fucking kite, the adrenaline from the show still coursing through my veins.
I’m also anxious to get back inside. I’ve got a fine ass woman I have to hunt down.
I saw her, saw her dancing to our music in the middle of the crowd. It didn’t matter that I could barely see two feet from the stage, the lights shining in our faces making it nearly impossible to see beyond them. My eyes sought her out as if her body was calling out to me. My voice had her swinging those little hips, her eyes closed as she lost herself to our sound. It was so fucking sexy, I had to look away from fear that I’d get a hard-on in the middle of our set.
“Hey, Dweeb, where the hell are you, man?” asks Derrick, knocking me upside the head. I don’t even get mad that he hit me, knowing good and well that if anyone was trying to talk to me just now, I have no clue who or what they said.
“What’s up?”
“We’re done, dumb-ass. Let’s go get shit-faced!” cries Maddox from the side door.
“Drink all you want, but you better keep your fucking dick in your pants. You see a girl who needs some attention, just point her out and I’ll take care of her,” says Knox, hooking his arm around his brother’s neck.
“You got that right,” pipes in JJ. “We do not need Andrea showing up pissed as hell, kicking our door down after she finds out you messed around with some random chick.”
“Hey, in my defense, we were broken up!”
Derrick shakes his head as we follow them back inside. “You’re such a punk. As long as she lets you fuck her, you’re never really broken up. Now shut the hell up—you’ve got first round.”
“Shots!” Maddox shouts, leading the way to the bar.
“Wha—Dweeb, where are you going? Bar’s this way?” mutters Derrick, looking at me with a confused scowl.
“I, uh,” I begin to say, scanning the crowd, looking for my conquest.
“Oh, yeah—Sage is getting laid tonight,” Knox calls out with a grin. “He’s a lost cause. Come on, Derrick. Good luck, kid.”
I return his grin as I flip him off. “Don’t need your luck, bro.”
He and Derrick laugh before we go our separate ways, the crowd swallowing us up. When I see Brandon, practically attached to Sarah, I start heading their way. Millie comes into view and I smirk victoriously when I see that she doesn’t have some guy hanging all over her.
Not that I would have let some sorry ass prick stop me. Tonight, that girl is mine.
I’m stopped by a couple girls before I can reach my destination, their hands pawing at me in an attempt to get my attention. I barely see them as they spout out their praise for Mountains & Men. I thank them for their kind words, because I’m not a dick—anyone who appreciates our music deserves our gratitude—but then I push past them, my eyes locked on tonight’s trophy.
“Oh, my gosh, Sage!” cries Sarah as I fill the space between Brandon and Millie. “You guys were amazing! I had no idea you could sing like that. I’m so glad I came—you are so good!” I can’t help but chuckle at her animated greeting. I can tell she’s been drinking and she’s too fucking cute.
“Thanks, Sarah, that means a lot,” I reply, looking from her to Brandon.
He nods at me before he speaks, “Yeah—that was a great set. Thanks for giving us a reason to dance.” I chuckle knowingly, understanding his meaning exactly.
“Right!?” squeals Aria. “You guys killed it! I could listen to you all night.”
“Thanks,” I repeat before my eyes seek out my target. I can’t stop myself from smiling when I see Millie is looking right at me, as if she’s been waiting her turn for my attention. I prop my arm against the table and lean closer to her. I can smell her perfume interlaced with the scent of her sweat and I can’t wait to taste her milky white skin. “What about you, gorgeous? Were we tolerable?”
She lifts one shoulder demurely, her eyes leaving mine as her focus falls to the ink that covers my arm. “Definitely tolerable,” she murmurs, peeking at me from beneath her eyelashes. “I might even be impressed.”
“Good,” I say, taking a step closer to her. “Now it won’t be awkward when I ask you to have a drink with me. You in?” She hesitates, but I’m not taking no for an answer. Before she says a word, I take her hand and start leading her to the bar. She doesn’t protest; and when I ask her what she wants, she doesn’t even think before she tells me her order.
Gin is her poison.
I order a beer, not in the mood for the hard stuff. When I bag this gorgeous creature beside me, I sure as hell want to remember it.
“You’re awfully sure of yourself, you know that?” she asks as I hand her her gin and tonic. I wink at her before taking a swig of my beer. “How do you know I’m not already with someone?”
My mind fills with images of her dancing earlier and I take a step closer to her, lowering my lips to her ear. I have to take a deep breath, willing myself not to kiss the spot just behind her jaw—it’s fucking calling to me; I ignore it for the moment, willing myself to speak. “No way in hell would I let my girl dance alone, in a crowd swarming with drunk assholes, if she looked as sexy as you do out on that floor. If you’re not here alone, he’s a fucking prick and I’m going to dance all night with his woman, showing him how it’s fucking done.”
When I pull away to peer into her eyes, the look she’s giving me makes my dick twitch. Her dark green stare holds a dare and I can’t help the smirk that tugs at the corner of my mouth. She has no idea I accepted her challenge the second we met.
I watch as she brings her glass to her lips, tilting her head back as she downs the entire drink all at once. She shakes her head when she’s finished, the sting of the liquor making her shudder; then she sets her glass on the bar and hooks a finger through one of my belt loops.
“Come on, then,” she purrs. “Let’s fucking dance.”
I take a long pull of my beer before leaving the half empty bottle on the counter. It doesn’t escape me that for the second time tonight, this girl has me forgetting to chase my buzz. I let her tug me through the crowd and into the middle of the dance floor. The next band, Crazy Blue, is groovin,’ making it easy for us to fall into the beat.
I take back control, gripping Millie’s hips and spinning her away from me before snaking my arm around her waist. With her back pressed against my front, I take hold of her wrist and bring her hand up to rest behind my neck. She holds on and I graze my fingers down the length of her arm, then her side, until I reach the hem of her shirt. She fits against me like a puzzle piece, her heels making her just tall enough to rest her head against my shoulder as she leans against me.
She swivels her hips, pressing her ass against my junk, and I feel myself growing hard. We let our bodies do all the talking, the music steering the direction of our conversation. When I can no longer restrain myself, I bury my face in her neck. She smells so fucking incredible, just a whiff of her skin turns me on even more. I press my lips against the warm, fragrant spot just below her ear and I can feel her sigh as she tilts her head, granting me easier access. I part my lips to kiss her again, using my tongue this time. She tastes both salty and sweet, and a thrill of anticipation rushes throug
h me, wondering what the rest of her will taste like.
“God, I can’t wait to taste your pussy,” I mutter thoughtlessly.
She lets me go in an instant, turning around to face me, no doubt so I can get the full effect of her glare. “You really are one arrogant son of a bitch, aren’t you?”
“Don’t kid yourself, doll face, your body has spoken loud and clear. I know you want me.”
She rolls her eyes and takes a step away from me. “Fuck you.”
She turns to walk off, but I stop her, sliding my arm around her waist and pulling her against me so that we’re chest to chest. “You bet your ass you’ll fuck me—right after I’ve fucked you, gorgeous.” I graze my nose along hers, stopping when my mouth is a breath away from her sweetheart lips. “I’ll set you free, baby, don’t let go. Tonight, just give me tonight,” I murmur, the lyrics from earlier pouring out of me as if they belong to her and her alone.
When I stick my tongue out and trace it against her bottom lip, she gasps; but instead of pulling away from me, she grabs hold of my hips and pulls herself closer. “Tonight. You and me, doll face. You in?”
“What’s my name?” she asks over the music, her face still only millimeters away from mine.
“Excuse me?”
“My name, asshole. I’m not some nameless, fangirl, slut, Sage—I’m not here to fall at your feet and suck your cock as if it’s my privilege. What is my name?”
A shit eating grin breaks out across my face. She’s a fucking firecracker and I love it. Her name. That’s the magic word. Like I could forget her name—my temporary muse.
I bring a hand up and grip the back of her neck, my fingers lost in her silky, soft hair. I’m about to kiss her smart-ass mouth, and she’s not going anywhere. “Millie. Your name, doll face, is Millie.” Before she can respond, my tongue is making its first sweep through her mouth. I can feel the vibration of her hum as she relaxes against me, all evidence of her fight vanishing instantly as her lips start to move with mine.
