The Cannon (Swift Book 3)

by Leslie Pike

  “I looove this place!” she says over the noise and between oysters. “These singers are phenomenal.”

  A saltshaker falls to the floor when her hand hits it. Don’t think she noticed. The table is overflowing with plates we’ve finished and ones we haven’t. The overworked staff can’t keep up with the appetites of the room. Only the empty glasses have been cleared.

  “I’m glad you’re having fun. Me too.”

  “So when are you going to sing?” she says pointing to me.

  “Not sure. They’ll announce it.”

  God. I’m mesmerized by her. Even her half-closed eyes look great to me. Drunk or sober, she keeps my attention.

  “Tell me. Are you going to sing a ballad?”

  “Nope. I’m going to sing a song that says something I really want to say to you.”

  Her fork gets put down and she stares one bloodshot eye into mine. The other one is closed. Her chin lifts.

  “Is it a romantic song?”

  “In a way. I think it’s romantic.”

  She looks me over and leans her head to the side.

  “Is it about how I’m sugar and spice?”

  “You’re not sugar and spice, Bristol. You’re more savory.”

  She likes that because I saw her wiggle in her seat. Just a bit. Hope it’s because I just tickled her in her sweet spot.

  The audience claps for the red-haired tiny woman on stage.

  “Thank you, Linda! “New York, New York” is always a crowd pleaser. Now we have someone new. Please give a warm welcome for Sawyer!”

  I’m up. Bristol starts clapping wildly and it’s accompanied by her best and loudest whistle yet.

  I lean into her ear. “I think of you doing this for me.”

  Then I’m up the few stairs and on the stage. I’m handed the microphone.

  “Hi y’all. This is for that pretty girl with the sexy shoes,” I say pointing to Bristol.

  She must be drunk, because it doesn’t embarrass her. Covering her skirt, she lifts her legs in the air and shows the room her shoes.

  They go wild.

  “She’s a Southern girl with country in her soul.”

  The music starts.

  Boom. Boom. Boom. Before the Luke Bryan lyrics begin, I’m talking to Bristol.

  “Come on now… all the eyes are watching.”

  ”Country Girl” starts and my voice lifts and reaches to the back of the room. Everyone’s ignoring my less-than-perfect voice. I can carry a tune, but no one is ever going to mistake me for a singer. What I lack in tone and breath control I make up for in enthusiasm.

  This is one of Bryan’s earlier hits and I’ve been singing it for years. Bristol is mighty encouraging. And so is the reaction from the patrons. Girls are yelling their approval and I hear a whistle or two. There’s nothing like a country song to make a room come alive.

  I sing directly to Bristol, personalizing a few of the lyrics to make it hers. Instead of Georgia, I’m stompin’ my boots in Memphis mud. The crowd responds. I call her by name, ordering, ‘Bristol, come on and do your thing.’

  Shake it for me, my girl. The song pleads a man’s case. Baby you know what to do. Wrap me in your arms like Grandma’s yarn. Pretty girl shake it for me.

  The pitch of the room builds as I perform to the woman I’m hoping will become my girl.

  As I move into the last verse, Bristol’s arms raise in the air and she really gets into the song. Much to the crowd’s entertainment. They call for her to dance. Here’s my spot.

  “Get up here, country girl! Dance for me!”

  To wild applause, she stands and sashays to the stairs, climbs and dances to my side. It’s sexy as all get out. The girl can move.

  “Shake it for me, girl!”

  The riled-up audience is clapping and stamping their feet to the beat. There’s a look in Bristol’s eyes that sets me on fire. As the song comes to the end, she and I let loose a pent-up holler.

  “Shake it!” I sing the last words.

  That went better than anything I could have hoped for. I take her around the waist and lay one on her in front of God and his partying karaoke lovers.

  We taste like rye whiskey, which is more of a turn on than it sounds. There can’t be much of the infamous absinthe in the cocktail’s recipe, but something has bit us both. It’s a dreamy kind of revved-up drunk. I feel more uninhibited than usual. That’s saying something.

  “My turn!” Bristol commands. “Go sit down.”

  Total shock as she pushes me away and takes the mic. I jump off the edge of the stage and return to my seat.

  The MC rushes onstage and huddles with her. You can tell he wants the mood of the room to keep going. They agree on a choice and he goes backstage to make it happen.

  Bristol looks like she’s having the time of her life. The horse has been unbridled. It’s out of the barn now and pawing at the ground. Here I am baby, let me ride.

  After a few moments the music starts.

  A graceful finger points to where I sit.

  “Aretha Franklin is one of Memphis’ favorite daughters. This one’s for you, Sawyer. I hope you like it,” she says as if she’s the diva herself, addressing the packed concert hall. Her eyes look a little sleepy, but it works for what comes next.

  “Looking …”

  It’s not what I expected. The ballad, “A Natural Woman”. For me. And her voice? It’s beautiful. Soft and throaty mixed in a witch’s potion. She’s putting a spell on me. On the room. It quieted with the opening lyrics.

  The way she caresses the microphone, how she reaches effortlessly for a note. Like she’s been doing this forever. American Idol much? Every time she says the iconic lyric she locks eyes with me. I’m a goner. She works the stage like it’s the most comfortable place on earth. How come nobody has mentioned the fact Bristol has this talent?

  As the song comes to its end, her voice softens. Then softer still, until it fades with the final words. The applause starts before the last note sounds. I’m up on my feet. I kind of feel teary. What the hell? She doesn’t hold her gaze on me or the crowd. Suddenly she’s become embarrassed. Taking the steps and snaking her way through the tables she reaches my side.

  My embrace holds her close as the applause continues.

  “You’re incredible,” I say.

  “You’re drunk.”

  “It was sexy as hell. Want to get out of here?”

  But as we part, her expression goes from totally with me to a faraway gaze.

  “You okay?”

  She touches her lips. “No. I think I’m going to be sick.”

  My arm hooks around her waist. “I’ll get you home, Aretha.”

  Shit. Not reaching any base tonight. It’s a big strikeout.

  Chapter 8

  Bristol

  Stepping out of the shower onto the thick warmth of the rug, my toes wiggle dry. I grab the towel and wrap my wet hair inside. Droplets of water run down my body and the difference between the warm cocoon I just came from and the temperature of the room chills my skin. Goosebumps.

  It would have been easier to take my shower in the morning, but I couldn’t bear the idea of getting in bed without feeling clean. That’s the last time I do a night run. My mind wasn’t on it either.

  I take a fresh thick towel from the shelf and begin to dry off. In the wide mirror over my counter I catch a glimpse. Even right now, I’m thinking of him. It’s all over my transformed face. Something about it looks different lately.

  Every time my mind goes back to last Sunday night it settles on a different memory. I’ve tried pushing the unpleasant ones to the background. I can get past having to be carried down the stairs. But throwing up outside the club while Sawyer held my hair manages to edge its way in every so often.

  Ending our night so abruptly almost made me cry, when I sobered up enough to realize what I’d done. What I’d missed. But the fact it’s not the only thing I’m remembering speaks to how magical the night was. The good outweighs the
bad by a mile.

  I let loose. Something I haven’t done in a long time. Maybe not since I was a girl. It’s shocking to know I voluntarily got up in front of a roomful of strangers and sang. Not only that but chose my favorite song and dedicated it to Sawyer. I gave it my all, without inhibition.

  Up until the barfing business, I think my Southern woman standards of behavior were maintained. Well, at least the details I remember.

  Alcohol is the real lie detector test. Have enough of it and you’ll reveal your secrets. Mine couldn’t have been clearer. I want him.

  I wasn’t the only one who showed her cards. He sang to me first. And god, it was sexier than anything a man’s ever done for or to me. Is that the greatest thing to say, or the saddest? Will things be different with Sawyer? Will I be able to orgasm? Oh god, please make it so. Up till now intercourse hasn’t brought me to the same heights I can bring myself. I hate that it’s true.

  The sound of the cell ringing breaks my concentration. Oh, it’s him.

  “Hi.” I say in my sexiest voice.

  “Hello, lovely. Do you miss me?”

  He knows how to make me squirm with anticipation. Just hearing his voice and having him call me lovely tickles me to my toes.

  “Maybe,” I lie through my teeth. I miss him more than I’m willing to say.

  “Maybe nothin’. Admit it and I’ll tell you a bedtime story you’ll like.”

  Oh Lordy.

  “Well now I’m intrigued. Okay, I admit it.”

  “You need to say it. Come on now, girl.”

  He says it low and slow, and I’m grinning like a goon, standing naked in front of the mirror. I bite on the corner of the thick towel.

  “I miss you. Whatever.”

  He laughs a little and my heart melts.

  “Where are you right now?” he says.

  “I just stepped out of the shower.”

  A low groan escapes his lips. I know exactly what I’m doing.

  “Are you naked, Bristol?”

  “Yep. And dripping.”

  Oh god I can’t believe I said that! His groan turns into a grunt. A sexy low grunt that makes my little pussy wet.

  “God, woman. Do you know what you do to me?”

  “Noooo.”

  A deep sigh escapes his lips, and I picture myself kissing them.

  “Stop me now if you don’t want to find out. This is about to get real.”

  I keep silent.

  “Get on your bed. Go on. Do it now. And I’m going to get naked too.”

  Oh my God! I don’t really give a shit about the fact he’s bossy or the truth we haven’t even been to second base let alone what’s about to happen. I walk out of the bathroom, tossing both towels on the floor.

  “Throw back the blanket and sheet,” he orders. “Lay down.”

  I do as told nestling my head on two down pillows.

  “I’m here,” I say closing my eyes.

  “Alright, I’m on my bed too.”

  I’m almost having an orgasm before anything has been said.

  “This is a bedtime story that won’t make you sleepy,” he says in hushed tones. “Once upon a time there was a beautiful girl named Bristol. She’d worked hard to make all her dreams come true. But Bristol was about to have a new dream. His name was Sawyer.”

  A little squeak leaves my lips.

  “How do you like my story so far?”

  “I like it. Keep going,” I say nestling against the sheet and edge of the comforter.

  “Sawyer noticed there was something Bristol kept hidden. Like a beautiful jewel that no one could appreciate. It seemed she had forgotten about it because it was buried deep inside. So, he went searching for it with her.”

  “What were they looking for?” I ask.

  “Her unbridled passion.”

  My eyes flash open and for a moment I hold my breath.

  “Shall we begin?” he says.

  “Yes. Yes.”

  “Describe your body to me. Make me see.”

  The way he says it tells me he wants it all. I don’t know if I will be able.

  “What? I don’t think I can do that,” my voice trails off.

  “Let me show you how. I’ll go first.”

  There’s silence for a beat and then I hear him take a deep breath. “I’m laying on top of the wide lonely bed, and I don’t have anything on. I just now spread my legs.”

  Oh, fucking God!

  “Are you picturing it?”

  “Yes,” I say softly.

  “Now imagine my hand moving over my chest, down my torso, towards my dick. I’m already hard. That’s all you.”

  I feel the deep pinch inside me. “Touch it,” I beg him.

  “Ohhh. Fuck, Bristol. I’m so hard for you. For that sweet pussy I know you have. I want it.”

  “Are you touching yourself?” I whisper.

  “Baby, I’m stroking it. Now tell me what I want to hear. Your breasts. Describe them.”

  I hesitate for a moment, but I’m so turned on I dive in. “First of all they’re not too big and not too small. They’re pretty. And the nipples are very sensitive. If you want to taste them, you need to be gentle.”

  I can hear him stroking himself. His breathing has quickened.

  “Oh yeah. I want to suck on them so much. Fuck.”

  “And they’re prominent. And pink.”

  “Oh shit. Fuck me, Bristol. More. Tell me more. Put your hand between your legs.”

  “It’s already there. I’ve been masturbating since you sent me to bed.”

  “Fuck! Oh god!” his voice rises with his excitement.

  “I don’t have any hair down there, except for a little landing strip. Otherwise, it’s smooth and so soft.”

  “I wish my mouth was tasting you right now. I’d use my tongue and make you scream.”

  “Let me part them so you can see,” I say bluffing my way forward. I’m not sure why I’m saying things I never have done. But he’s an inspiration this man.

  A forced frustrated exhale leaves his mouth. “I’ve got to stop jerking off! You’re going to make me come. I’m serious.”

  “Really?”

  He lets loose with a yell to the heavens. “I’m supposed to be tempting you!”

  “You are though. I’m about to come thinking of you wanting me.”

  “I want all of you. Tease me, Bristol.”

  He says it through clenched teeth and sounds so sincere even though we’re in the middle of phone sex. I need to put us both out of our very real hot misery.

  “Your cock. Tell me what I can look forward to. Let’s come together.”

  I imagine him stroking faster and faster as he talks.

  “Right now it’s bigger and harder than it’s ever been,” he says between breaths. “It’s engorged and trying to find you. You’re so fucking sexy, woman.”

  “Is it going to hurt when we make love?”

  He’s moaning now and my heart is racing as the orgasm builds. I’m close.

  “Maybe just a little but…oh, god…god…Bristol… here it comes!”

  In the most sensual and lust-filled scene of my life, I burst free. Exploding in an orgasmic fireball of feeling. He’s not here with me, but I hear his release. It’s all man. Unconfined, uncontrolled, powerful. His voice rises as the orgasm takes over every other part of him.

  It makes my own last longer than ever before. I’m throbbing with a beat that builds as he’s coming. Somehow we’re connected.

  “Ohhhh, fuck me! Fuck me, Bristol!”

  “Take it all!”

  The sensation reaches its peak and begins the retreat. I’ve grabbed the sheet and scrunched it between my legs, grinding to feel every last sensation. My heart is pumping like a jack hammer. We both start to laugh because what just happened was unplanned. Maybe that’s why it was so fucking great. I didn’t overthink.

  His breathing is still labored. A long sigh carries from his room to mine. “What the fuck was that?”

&nbs
p; “Whatever it was I liked it,” I say as my heart attempts to calm itself.

  He takes in a breath through clenched teeth. I picture his lips puckering as a satisfied sound accompanies the exhale. “Okay, that’s it Bristol. What the hell are we waiting for?”

  “We need to be in the same city for one.”

  “The team’s coming back day after tomorrow. Be ready.”

  That makes my already tender pussy twitch.

  “The party is the next night. The day after that you don’t have a game, right?”

  “I’m all yours for two days. Well, one and a half anyway.”

  “I want to talk to you about something before we make love. So, let’s enjoy the night dancing and being charmed by each other. Then maybe it’ll happen,” I say.

  There’s a pause on the other side of the connection while he digests what was said. “Tell me now.”

  “I don’t want to ruin this night,” I say softly.

  “What could possibly do that? Are you actually a man? That’s about the only thing that could change how I feel. Just tell me.”

  I take a deep breath and decide maybe I should tell him over the phone. At least then I don’t have to look at his face when I deliver the news. I take a deep breath.

  “Alright. Well, the ugly truth is…oh god.”

  “Just say it.”

  “I’ve never been brought to orgasm through intercourse. I don’t know if it’s my anatomy or it’s psychological or what. But the only way I can come is by my own hand. And that’s okay. Really. I still enjoy it. I’m not a prude and at least I can get the job done that way. Anyway, I don’t want you to be dissatisfied or disappointed when it doesn’t happen. It’s not you, but me. There. That’s my sad reality. Ironic really, for a doctor. I can’t fix my own problem.”

  I hear the air leaving his lungs in a long sigh. Shit. Did I just ruin everything?

  “Bristol. All I hear is that the right man has never found the key. What about oral sex? Can you come that way?”

  “I don’t know. I never let a man try. Well, once I did, but he was at it so long I went numb.”