Sentenced

by L. L. Collins

  I revved up my newest addition—a motorcycle. I couldn’t stand that little speck of a car for one more second, and I’d found this custom Harley on a killer deal from an old guy needing his money back after impulsively having it custom made. Gotta love old guys in a mid-life crisis. His wife probably made him get rid of it. I’d always wanted one but hadn’t found it smart in Denver. I had no idea if I was going to go back to Denver or not; I was taking it one week at a time at this point. But Julia said I could keep it here if I did, even if she did beg me daily not to go back. Thankfully, I’d gotten my motorcycle license when I got out of prison so I could eventually buy one of my own.

  I’d talked to Al, my parole officer, a few times since I’d been here. He was keeping in contact with my parents about the expunging my record thing. There still wasn’t a hearing date, so I was in a holding pattern. I was still grateful he was allowing me to be in Florida for this amount of time and was okay with me checking in with him. He did say if I moved here I’d have to get a new parole officer. I was hoping that by then my record would be gone and I wouldn’t need a fucking babysitter anymore. I wasn’t a criminal. Okay, I was. But not by choice.

  The bike roared down the road, whizzing past the buildings and cars. I could still smell the salt in the air from the beach, no matter how far away I got. I loved that about Florida. The reverberation of the bike under my hands was intoxicating. I could ride forever. It was almost as invigorating as writing and playing music.

  Julia asked me almost daily if I’d played on the Gibson. Every time I told her no, that I couldn’t, I’d see that look of disappointment in her eyes. I had pages and pages of lyrics, not that I shared those with Julia. I’d never shared my lyrics with anyone. They were a diary of sorts; a way to get out everything that got all jumbled up in my head.

  Much too soon, I pulled into Dixie, where Belles and Lace was playing tonight. Heads turned as the rumble of the motorcycle got their attention. I stepped off, removing the helmet and clipping it to the bike. Looking around, I saw that I was in the minority at this bar. Huge jacked up trucks were much more prevalent than bikes, and most of the patrons wore cowboy boots while I wouldn’t be caught dead in them.

  Ignoring the stares, I pulled open the door and stopped, letting my eyes adjust to the dimness in the room. Music pumped through speakers, and the dance floor was packed with people doing some sort of line dance. Kill me now. I hated country music. The things I do for a good lay.

  “Hey there, sugar.” I snapped my eyes over to a young girl, who looked barely twenty-one. She was wearing shorts—if you wanted to call them that—and a low cut tank top. “Can I get you a drink?”

  “Beer,” I barked out. “Whatever is on tap.” Her smile faltered just slightly before she turned to get my beer. I knew what she probably thought: I was from the wrong side of the tracks, in the wrong bar, and she would take care of me while I was here. Honey, you don’t want any of this.

  I sat on the same stool drinking beer after beer while I waited for the band to come on. The place was even more packed than when I first arrived, and I was being jostled on both sides as people came up to order from the bar.

  Several women had tried talking to me, but I’d not so kindly told them I wasn’t interested. My phone lit up, and I picked it up. The girls are ready, the text read. I stood, throwing money on the counter and heading to the back where the band was. I was scheduled to meet them briefly before the show and tell them I was from The Outrigger.

  I planned on wooing Stephanie right out of her panties.

  I walked past what looked like security, who just nodded at me as I moved down the dimly lit hallway. Just as I reached the door where they were, I heard a voice announcing that the band would be out very soon, and loud cheers erupted.

  Knocking on the door, I stuck my hands in my jeans pockets and waited. The door swung open almost instantly and I met the eyes of Zaide, the drummer. She was smoking hot, too, with long black hair and almond-shaped eyes. Visions of her and Stephanie taking turns . . .

  “You must be Johnny,” she said, interrupting my daydream. “Come in.”

  I nodded, following her into the room. Four other sets of eyes followed me as I came in. Stephanie, the bassist Ginger, the guitarist Elle, and someone I didn’t recognize stopped talking as Zaide shut the door behind me.

  “This is Stephanie,” Zaide started introductions. I pretended like I didn’t know already. “This is Ginger, Elle, and Stephanie’s sister, Nichole. She doesn’t play; she’s kind of our manager. Not that we need one yet.”

  “Nice to meet all of you,” I said, not smiling. My eyes bored into Stephanie’s, and she shifted. I was making her uncomfortable. Good. Her short skirt showcased her legs for miles, and her shirt was see-through and sexy. “I’m Johnny. I’m here for The Outrigger. I just wanted to see you in action.”

  Stephanie stepped forward and held out her hand. “Nice to meet you.” I didn’t miss that she held onto my hand for a beat too long, or the look in her eyes as she took in the tattoos scrolling down my arms and peeking out of the collar of my shirt.

  I smirked at her. Oh yeah. Just as I thought, she wanted me. It was either the bad boy vibe or my irresistible charm. I almost laughed out loud at the thought.

  “The pleasure is mine,” I said in my best bedroom voice. She smelled like something delectable, and I wished the room was empty so I could fill her with myself before she went on the stage. “I have to admit I’m not much of a country fan, but we have a good following at The Outrigger.”

  Nichole laughed, turning my attention to her. Damn, she was hot, too. The rest of the girls watched me, interest in their eyes. I’d never had an entire band before, but hell, there was a first time for everything, right? “Then you’ve never seen them,” she said, jutting her chin out.

  I pictured coming into the room after the show to congratulate them on a job well done and seeing them all in here naked, ready for me. The mere thought of it had me stirring in my pants.

  Clearing my throat, I headed back for the door. “See you out there, girls. Break a leg.” I gave one more long look at Stephanie before shutting the door behind me. For whatever reason I’d decided before I even came here tonight she was the one I wanted, so I had to get to her now.

  “You were fucking smoking hot up there,” I said to Stephanie. I’d had a few too many drinks, but I was telling the truth. I hated country, but damn if she couldn’t convert me. The last hour of listening to her belt out lyrics and dance around the stage had gotten to me.

  She blinked her large eyes at me, sipping whatever fruity drink she liked. “Thanks. I’m glad you’re enjoying the show.” She wrapped her tongue around the small straw and stared directly at me. Did she know what she was doing? Did she realize what kind of show I wanted?

  “I am,” I said, pulling from what might be my tenth beer tonight. If I didn’t end up going with her somewhere, I was going to have to call a cab. I moved in just a hair closer to her, and I heard a small gasp. I smirked at her and leaned close enough to smell the alcohol on her breath. I could see the other girls watching us, but that was okay. They could get in on the action, too.

  “I’d like a different show with your panties in my pocket and you dripping wet,” I said into her ear. Stephanie dropped the cup, splashing what was left of her drink on both of our feet. But it didn’t matter because neither of us moved. I watched as her chest heaved with the increase in breathing. I had her. I knew it.

  “What kind of panties are you wearing?” I pulled her body to mine until she was standing in between my legs. I snaked my hands around her, resting them just a little too low to be appropriate. She rested her hands on my biceps, her mouth in a small O as she registered my words. I imagined it around my . . .

  Stephanie smiled. “What if I said I wasn’t wearing any?” Hell yeah. I liked this girl. She was ready to play.

  I looked around quickly. Her band mates had moved away to the dance floor, leaving us alone. She had anothe
r fifteen minutes before she went back on. “Want to go back to the room? Or dance?”

  Her brain warred with my options. She knew what going back to the room meant. What she didn’t know was I could do many things to her while we danced, also. There was hardly any light over the floor, and I knew just how to use it to my advantage.

  “You have a boyfriend? Fiancé, anything?” I might’ve been an asshole, but I wasn’t a home wrecker.

  She shook her head, biting her lip in between her teeth. She was conflicted.

  “Let’s go dance.” I had every intention of making her horny as hell on this dance floor and making her think of me the entire last hour she played.

  The crowd sucked us in as we made our way onto the dance floor. Even though it was country and some were line dancing, there were just as many that were pressed up against each other.

  I pressed her body to mine, my hand on her lower back holding her to me. God, she was gorgeous. “I want to fuck you, and hard,” I said into her ear. She gasped again, sending arousal straight to my groin. “I want to bury my fingers in your pussy until you come and then give you what you really want—my cock.”

  Stephanie didn’t say a word, but she reached in between us and stroked me over my jeans. Fuck yeah. I didn’t wait one more second. I crashed my lips to hers. She whimpered, hesitating just a fraction of a second before continuing caressing me while her tongue danced with mine. We were pressed so close together no one would be able to see what she was doing, but shit did I want to yank up her skirt and give everyone a real eye full.

  I pulled back, putting my lips to her ear. “I can be really fucking quick, baby,” I whispered. “You going to go back on the stage satisfied or horny?”

  The little vixen licked her lips. “I have a room. Come back with me after the show. As much as I want you, I’m going to want a whole lot more than five minutes.”

  “You can have as long as you want,” I growled, biting her lip. “Just so you know, though, it’s just a hookup.”

  She nodded. “Got it.”

  The song stopped, and a voice announced that the band would be getting back on stage in five minutes.

  “Time to go,” Nichole grabbed Stephanie’s arm, eyeing me suspiciously.

  “I’ll be watching you, knowing you’re wet for me,” I whispered before letting her go.

  I watched her until she disappeared with the other girls down the hall. Turning back, I went to find myself a perch at the bar when I met the angry eyes of Bex. I stopped, my erection straining against my pants. She was wearing the tightest jeans I’d ever seen and a belly shirt.

  What the fuck was she doing here?

  Bex

  I hated every second of being here. Beau made me come. He was hot on one of the girls in this band for some weird reason and forced me out of the rehearsal cave. Country music was like nails on the damn chalkboard for me, even if they were talented.

  “Come on,” Beau said into my ear. I turned back and indicated to Natalie that Beau was moving us. I’d be content to stand here and drown my senses in alcohol to avoid wherever Beau wanted us to go. Our tattooed, rocker selves stuck out like a sore thumb here in a room full of country bumpkins.

  I stopped in my tracks as I realized he was leading us to the dance floor. Dance? Hell to the no. His eyes pleaded with me as he nodded his head towards Zaide. Ah, that was the one he was sweet on. She was the drummer. It made sense now.

  Natalie pushed me from behind, and I let them continue to lead me onto the dance floor. Zaide smiled at him, and he whispered something into her ear. She nodded, and the two of them began dancing together. I watched them for a moment, wondering what the hell I was supposed to do now. Dance with Natalie? That was not happening. This was so unlike Beau too, so, however he met her, must’ve been earth shattering.

  Just as I turned to plead with her to kill me now, words left my brain as I looked across the dance floor to the bar. He was here, in a country bar? Hell, I was in a country bar, but why was he? He was, for all intents and purposes, eye fucking someone. At closer examination, I realized she was the lead singer of the band we were here to see, Stephanie. She was fucking beautiful; everything I wasn’t. Yeah, I knew I was good looking, but she was pure. Innocent. And it looked like he was going to corrupt her. The feeling of quivering around him overwhelmed me.

  Rage flooded through my system. Of course, he would be here, ready to fuck another lead singer. That was his M.O. apparently. I watched as he kissed her, his hands a little too low on her backside. He then whispered into her ear, and she bit her lip in response. My gut churned and rolled the beer I’d had.

  Johnny.

  I hadn’t seen him since the day I left The Outrigger to get ready for the tour. I knew that was how both of us wanted it, but it hadn’t stopped me from thinking about our two days together. Or touching myself while thinking of his fingers inside me, on me, or his mouth trailing a path of fire across my goose bumped skin. Or the way his . . .

  “Bex,” Natalie hissed into my ear. “Is that who I think it is?”

  I nodded, not trusting my voice. We watched as Stephanie walked away, a promise in both of their eyes. That’s when he turned and his eyes connected with mine.

  I wasn’t sure how much time passed, but neither of us moved. I wanted nothing more than to run the hell away from this shithole bar. I wasn’t sure who I hated more at this moment: Johnny, for acting with her the way he’d acted with me, or myself for giving two shits about who he was with now. We’d made no promises to each other, and I didn’t want one.

  Johnny stepped up to me, so close I could smell whatever aftershave he wore. His jeans fit him like a second skin, and the shirt he wore showed the striation of every muscle. I remembered licking and sucking every part of that body. He rubbed his scruff as he watched me, and my legs quivered. The thought of him rubbing against my inner thighs made me rub my legs together. So he was the hottest guy I’d ever had the privilege of taking to bed. Multiple times. So what. Get your fucking head together, Bexley Bryant. What kind of pussy are you?

  I wanted to kick him in the nuts and drag Beau and Natalie out of here, but I forced myself to stand still. Two could play this fucking game. Crossing my arms in front of my chest, I tipped my head up so I could meet his eyes. I knew the look I was giving him was lethal, but he was undeterred.

  “Bex,” he said, not hiding his appraisal of my body. Never mind the fact that he had just been about to fuck Stephanie and probably would be later.

  “Johnny,” I said back. “What the fuck do you want?”

  He chuckled, sending my nerve endings on fire. “Ah, there she is.”

  “There who is?” I spat. I could feel Natalie tapping me gently from behind. I knew what her message was. Chill the fuck out. But I couldn’t. He wasn’t getting to me. I jerked my thumb in the direction Stephanie had gone. “Get your dick sucked yet, or did she have to go play first?”

  He narrowed his eyes on me. “What the fuck do you care?”

  He got me there. “I don’t.”

  Johnny looked at Natalie before looking back at me. “Unbelievable.”

  “Fuck you,” I seethed. “Oh wait, I already did that. Been there done that, got the t-shirt. But I didn’t get the t-shirt. I sure as shit got the dick though, didn’t I?”

  I was crossing the line. I knew it. Natalie gasped from behind me, looking around for Beau. I knew she was trying to do damage control and get us out of there before I went nuclear.

  “You sure did, sweetheart,” Johnny spat back. “And it was the best fucking sex of your life. I know it, and you know it. Which is why you’re acting like a jealous bitch right now. You wanna fuck again? Come on, I know first hand the room back there isn’t being used. You know I can do it quick and send you screaming for more.”

  The band started playing, putting us both at a silent standoff as the room was filled with music.

  “Let’s go, Bex,” Natalie said, pulling on my arm. I shook her off, my eyes not leaving J
ohnny’s. Why was I so angry? What was it about him that pushed me right to my limits? Was it because he was the first guy—ever—that I’d slept in a bed with willingly? Was it because when he looked at me I felt like he saw the real me—the one I tried to hide?

  Johnny’s eyes lifted to Natalie’s. An unspoken conversation seemed to happen between them. Finally, he nodded and grabbed my wrist, pulling me towards the door.

  “Let. Me. Go,” I bit out. He ignored me, forcing me to run behind him. His fingers were almost hurting, as hard as he was holding onto me. I turned and saw Natalie, a small smile playing on her lips. I took my free hand and flipped her off, to which she blew me a kiss. She really was fucking fired now.

  Johnny pushed through the door, the humidity hitting me like a wall as he pushed me up against the building right next to the door. “I know what your fucking problem is,” he said against my lips, pinning me to the wall. I could feel his erection against my leg, and I wanted so badly to shift to where I needed him to be. But then I remembered he’d been hard for her, and I tried unsuccessfully to wriggle from his grasp.

  “You fucking hard for me or is that left over from Stephanie?”

  He smirked. “That damn mouth,” he muttered. “I’m going to shut it up.” He grabbed my neck and hauled me to him, his lips silencing any other words that I could say. My traitorous knees buckled from the assault of his tongue against mine.

  Just as I was giving in, my body melting against his, Johnny stepped back. “Point proven. You’re pissed off because you want my dick. Say it, Bex.”

  My mouth dropped open. That’s what this had been about? Not that he wanted me as badly as I wanted him, but to prove a point.

  I smacked him across the face, the sound echoing around us. “Fuck. You.”

  “I did,” Johnny said, leaning so close to my face I could see the fire in his eyes. “And I want to do it again. You do too, or you wouldn’t be acting like a bitch.”

  He opened his wallet and took out a card. He tossed it in my direction. “When you’re tired of getting your own rocks off, my cell is on there.”