Rhythm of the Road

by Autumn Jones Lake

  His cheeks puff out with the effort of holding back his laughter.

  “Don’t laugh at me.”

  “I’m not. I like this side of you.”

  A whole bunch of drunk butterflies flutter in my stomach. “Do you bring girls back here?”

  Why do I keep insisting on ice-skating over such dangerous territory?

  He groans. “Not since the re-model.”

  I glance around at the shiny laminate floors, crisp painted walls, and stiff curtains. “Was that recent?”

  This wild, twitterpated feeling seems determined to make me stick my boots in my mouth this afternoon.

  “Right before our run to Texas.” He settles his hands on my hips. “What I said last night was the truth. I don’t see the point in lying, Shelby.” His eyes narrow and he shifts his jaw from side to side, like he’s not sure if what he wants to say will land well.

  Probably means it’ll be bad.

  “When I left Texas, we didn’t make any promises to each other, right?”

  “Yeah.” Oh, how I’d wanted to, but I’d kept my dang mouth shut, convinced I’d never see or hear from him again. Color me shocked when he texted me hours later from the road. And the next day. And the next… No making me wait seventy-two hours or whatever stupid rules some guys have. Rooster doesn’t play games.

  “So, if I’d been fucking around all this time, I would’ve said so. Wouldn’t be any reason to lie, would there?”

  I blink, considering how much I’d hate hearing it. But there’s comfort in knowing that Rooster’s not the kind of man to lie or sugarcoat things to spare anyone’s feelings. Not even mine.

  Still feeling petulant for some reason, I stick out my bottom lip. “I guess.”

  “Pouty Shelby’s even cuter than scary Shelby.” He pulls me closer. “And now you’ve got me thinking, the lack of action this room has seen is pretty pathetic.”

  My heart kicks, but I arch a brow and keep my tone disinterested. “That right?”

  His hands fist in the material at my hips, slowly dragging my skirt up. “You have no idea how many times I wanted to pull over on our trip down here, yank this little skirt over your sexy hips, and have you ride my dick.”

  I’m already fantasizing what that would’ve been like. “What’d I tell you about ruining my panties?”

  He cocks his head, pretending to think on it. “Guess you’ll have to remind me.”

  His hands grip my hips harder, and he walks us backwards until my butt meets the edge of his bed.

  I’m trapped.

  Nowhere to go.

  A thrill of excitement zips down my legs.

  With a wicked grin, Rooster turns me so I’m facing the bed. I brace myself on the thick, soft gray comforter with a black and blue scroll design.

  “Nice bedding. Who picked it out?”

  He laughs softly, his warm breath tickling my shoulder. “Murphy helped us with the remodel while Z was out of town. So, I’m pretty sure Heidi picked ’em out, I okayed them, and Hustler placed a bulk order of bedding for the whole clubhouse.” He leans down, kissing my neck. “You really want to question my decorating choices right now?”

  “No,” I whisper, reaching back to run my fingers through his hair.

  His fingers dig into my hips as he pulls me against him. “Feel what you do to me?” I bite my lip as his hardness presses against my butt. “Put your hands on the bed.”

  I hesitate, consider sassing back with a “no” or “make me,” but wanton, eager Shelby doesn’t want any delays. Bending at the waist, I take my time laying my palms flat against the bed and arching my back.

  He sucks in a deep breath. “Fuck.” Rough fingers trace a line under my tank top, all the way up my spine. He flicks the shirt over my head and unhooks my bra. I shimmy out of both and toss them by the pillows.

  I move to unzip my skirt and Rooster closes one hand over mine. “No. Put your hands back where they were.”

  Moving in closer, he pushes my skirt all the way until it’s bunched around my waist, and slowly drags my underwear down my legs. “Leave it,” he orders when I try to kick them off.

  Behind me, a drawer slides open, then shut. There’s a familiar crinkling. The ticking of Rooster’s zipper. He clutches my hips again and oh-so slowly drives into me.

  “Every night I’ve slept in this room I’ve been imagining fucking you just like this.”

  Some sort of stuck-sheep bleat passes my lips.

  He falls down over me, pinning my body to the mattress.

  “Poor Shelby,” he whispers in a sexy, rough mocking tone. His beard rasps over my shoulder. “Had no idea what a dirty bastard she was gettin’ tangled up with.”

  “Uh.” I twist my fingers in the comforter.

  He covers my hands with one of his and slowly stretches my arms above my head, holding me down.

  “Oh.” I gasp. Each thrust creates a delicious friction. Under the weight of him, I struggle to spread my legs wider and arch my back.

  “You like that?” he teases. He slows ever so slightly, snaking his arm under our bodies, and gently rubs my clit. His touch is like fire and I’m ready to explode.

  He picks up the tempo, pounding into me with quick, precise strokes. My stomach tightens. The electric jolt spreads from my hips to my thighs. My toes curl, and my legs shake uncontrollably. “Roost—oh my God.”

  “That’s it.” He releases my hands and grabs my hip. “Oh fuck. You’re shaking.”

  “Can’t stop.” My vision blurs. The angle or the way he’s pressing me into the mattress—something triggers the non-stop shock of sensation. It’s like he’s flipped some sort of electrical current to my clit.

  “Keep coming,” he encourages. “Fuck, you’re strangling my cock.” Breathing hard, he stops moving, his fingers digging into my hips, pressing his pelvis into me like he’s trying to permanently fuse our lower halves together. After a few seconds, he collapses on the bed next to me with a contented groan.

  My poor legs are still nothing but jelly, so I can’t do much more than roll onto my side next to him. He loosely drapes his arm over me and turns to kiss my temple. “You okay?”

  “I think so,” I whisper, staring up at the soft gray ceiling. “Are you?”

  He lifts up, peering down his glistening body. “My dick’s still attached. Afraid you snapped it off for a second.”

  “Oh my God.” Laughter spills out of me, and I turn so I’m facing him.

  He grins at me. “Come here.” He slides his hand into my hair, cupping the back of my head to drag me closer for a soft kiss. “Thanks for making my dreams come true.”

  Still laughing, I snuggle even closer, running my fingers over his beard and down his chest.

  He kisses my cheek and gently shifts me, so he can sit. “Let me clean up. I’ll be right back.”

  While he’s gone, I strip out of my wrinkled skirt and underwear, stretching out on top of the bed, facing the bathroom.

  “Oh, fuck me.” He stops in the doorway to stare.

  “What?” I ask innocently, running my hand over my hip.

  He waves his hand at me. “Careful, chickadee. I don’t think you can handle another round.”

  Shirtless and jeans unbuttoned, he’s one very sexy man. “You’re the one who can’t handle it.”

  Rooster

  At some point we fell asleep. I wake and find Shelby’s golden hair spilling all over my pillows. What I wouldn’t give to wake up to this every damn day.

  I glance at the clock. Probably time to get going if we want to make it upstate before dark. I pick up my phone and send Z a text asking if he needs anything from here.

  Even though I set the phone back on the nightstand quietly, I sense Shelby’s breathing change. She slowly stretches and opens her eyes. “Hey.”

  “Hey.”

  “Can’t remember the last time I napped during the day.”

  “Needed the rest. Your man rode you pretty hard.” I hold out my arm. “Come here.”

>   She scoots closer and rests her head on my chest.

  “I’m not one for naps either.”

  “Didn’t think you were.” She traces an aimless pattern over my chest. “So this is where you live?”

  “Most of the time.”

  “Where are your parents?”

  Ouch, that’s a painful topic. I swallow hard. “Dead.”

  She shoots upright, distress creasing her forehead. “Oh my gosh. I’m sorry. Why didn’t you say so?”

  I shrug and pull her still-naked body next to me. “Hadn’t really come up. Seems like an odd thing to blurt out.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Club’s the only family I need.”

  She’s quiet, as if she’s waiting me for add some details. Fuck if I feel like ruining the moment with such an ugly story.

  “You ever hear from your dad?” Damn, what a dick way to deflect the attention from myself.

  She blinks and shakes her head. “Nope. I fully expect him to come crawlin’ out of the woodwork with his hand out if I ever become real famous. After the way he left us broke and almost homeless, I look forward to telling him to go fuck himself and not giving him one red cent.”

  “That’s my girl,” I whisper.

  Her fire and fighting spirit pull me right into the present. The only place I want to be.

  Shelby’s light and warmth is all I need to chase away the ghosts that still haunt me.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Rooster

  The sun’s almost all the way down when we arrive upstate. Everyone’s either heading out of the clubhouse or in the garage, pulling out chairs, blankets, and other stuff for the bonfire.

  The scent of burning wood drifts through the trees, drawing my attention toward the woods.

  “How’d the truck run?” Murphy asks, coming out of the garage and setting down two camp chairs.

  “Perfect. Thanks a lot.”

  “No problem.” He ambles over and gives me a fist bump, then nods at Shelby. “Heard you met Tawny.”

  Shelby purses her lips and shrugs.

  “Sounds about right.” Murphy laughs. “Heidi and the girls are already at the fire.” He gestures behind him. “Trinity got out the tent for the little guys.”

  Murphy hands each of us a chair and a blanket. We wait to follow Z and Lilly to the clearing where the bonfire’s set up.

  Hope, Rock, Wrath, Trinity, Teller, and Charlotte are already situated around the fire. Z sets up a spot next to Hope’s chair, while Murphy plants two chairs next to Teller.

  “Blanket or chair?” I ask Shelby.

  “Blanket.” She wraps her arms around me. “So you can keep me warm.”

  “Are you cold?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Hi, Hope.” Jigsaw braces his hands on the back of her chair and leans over. “You’re looking lovely this evening.”

  “Hello, Jigsaw.” She smiles up sweetly at him. “You’re looking suicidal tonight.”

  Like he has radar for anyone trying to cop a peek down his wife’s shirt, Rock body checks Jiggy away from his wife. “Control your RC, Prez,” he growls at Z.

  Z snaps his fingers at me. “VP, come get your boy.”

  Jiggy swipes one of the chairs out of my hands and flips it open next to us.

  Eventually we’re all scattered around the fire. Dex and Z strike up a conversation about Crystal Ball.

  “We can talk stripper business inside at the table.” Ravage claps his hands together to get everyone’s attention.

  Once the conversation dies down, Ravage rubs his hands together like an evil party mastermind. “This is always a fun one. Who’s got the best losing their virginity story?”

  “Who, exactly, is that fun for?” Teller asks.

  Jigsaw and Ravage both raise their hands.

  “Fuck this shit,” Murphy growls. He pulls Heidi out of her seat and the two of them move away from the ring of chairs, spreading out a blanket and dropping out of sight.

  Jigsaw’s devious gaze bounces around the fire, landing on Shelby. “As the newcomer to the group, the respectful thing is to allow you to go first.”

  “Fuck off,” I growl.

  “No, no. I’m game.” Shelby leans forward and snags a can of soda from the cooler at Jiggy’s feet. “Too bad for you, it’s not that exciting a story.”

  “Hey.” I nudge her shoulder. “You don’t have to do this.”

  “They’re tryin’ to test me,” she whispers. “It’s fine.” She kisses my cheek.

  Ravage raises his hand. “Jigsaw and I will be the ones to decide the merits of each story.”

  “Well,” Shelby drawls, “I hate to be a southern cliché, but back of a pickup truck after a football game. Lasted about the length of a Dawson Roads song.”

  “So that’s why there are so many country songs about tailgates?” Jigsaw snaps his fingers.

  “Yup.” Shelby nods. “No doubt.”

  “After a football game?” Ravage asks. “Not even prom or homecoming, or whatever you guys do down there? That’s just sad, Shelby.”

  “I know.” She lets out a long, dramatic sigh. “In my defense, we won the state championship.”

  The guys and most of the girls crack up.

  “You’re so quiet over there, Rooster. No comment?” Jigsaw grins at me.

  “Fuck off.” I know exactly what story he’s dying to share. Dickhead.

  Sure enough, he sits forward, elbows resting on his knees, grinning like a serial killer. “I volunteer to go next. Lost it to Rooster’s girlfriend at her parents’ lake house.”

  I roll my eyes.

  Rav and Stash fall over laughing.

  “Ex-girlfriend, shithead.” I throw my empty, crumpled can at him and it bounces off the side of his head, landing on the ground.

  “She talked about Rooster the entire fucking time.” Jiggy adopts a high-pitched whiny tone that’s remarkably similar to the voice of the girl in question. “‘Rooster tongues my clit this way. Rooster makes me come in five seconds. Rooster’s dick is three-feet long.’ You wanna talk about a boner-killer for a young, desperate lad?”

  Shelby snorts, sitting forward and spitting soda everywhere. “Serves you right,” she coughs out.

  That pulls a chuckle from me. I pat her back and hand her a paper towel.

  “I didn’t do it on purpose,” Jigsaw whines.

  “Bullshit,” I mutter.

  “What happened?” Teller lobs a marshmallow at Jigsaw. “You tripped and your dick fell into her by accident?”

  “Not quite.”

  A few of the ol’ ladies squirm and shift their gazes away from the group. Don’t blame ’em. I’m not exactly loving this ‘game’ myself. “Can we move on to another topic?”

  “No, no, no.” Stash wags his finger at me. “We’re missing some vital pieces of information. This is a serious violation of bro code. How’d Jigsaw ever earn his patch? You voted him in to the club after that?”

  Laughing, I reach over to smack the back of Stash’s head. “What fucking bro code? This pre-dates the club. She and I had already broken up weeks before this went down.” I glance over at Jigsaw, who’s still grinning like an idiot. “I was thrilled he finally lost it so he’d shut the fuck up about it.”

  “See?” Jigsaw nods. “My bro always has my back.”

  Ravage turns his trouble-making face Hope and Rock’s way. Can’t wait to see how this ends. Maybe with a knife in his gut.

  “Prez?” Ravage presses his fists together in a demented prayer pose and focuses on Rock. “We’ve never heard your story.”

  Rock’s death glare should melt Rav into a puddle of goo any second now.

  After a second or two, he answers, “Seduced my babysitter.”

  “Daaamn. Respect.” Ravage holds out his fist, which Rock ignores. “How old were you?”

  Rock’s gaze settles across the fire on Teller. “Old enough, apparently.” His stone-cold tone leaves no doubt he’s done contributing to the game.
>
  Ravage doesn’t seem to be able to read his prez’s mood too well. His gaze lands on Hope next. “First Lady, care to share?”

  Rock throws him a threatening scowl, but his wife is also game tonight. She laughs and rests her arm on his chest, not that she could hold him back if he decides to permanently shut Ravage up. “Afraid I’m another teenage cliché. Prom night. High school boyfriend.”

  “How very all-American of you.” Ravage nods his approval.

  Hope lifts one shoulder in a careless shrug. “Nothing to write home about.”

  Lilly leans out of Z’s lap and turns toward Hope. “Let me guess—fast, awkward, and orgasm-less?”

  “Pretty much.”

  Jigsaw raises his hands toward the sky, sermon-style. “Except for Rooster’s girlfriend—”

  “Ex-girlfriend, jackass,” I snarl.

  “Yeah, yeah. His ex.” Jigsaw jerks his thumb in my direction, “Except for her, I’ve never left a woman hanging.”

  “That you know of,” Charlotte adds.

  “Yeah, I highly doubt you could tell the difference, bro,” Z says.

  Ignoring the digs to his manhood, Jigsaw searches the group for his next victim. Ravage leans in and slaps his shoulder. “Skip Sparky. He’s still a virgin.”

  “That’s not what your mom said,” Sparky retorts with a raised middle finger.

  I choke on my own laughter.

  Steer volunteers next. “Fifteen with the preacher’s daughter.”

  “Nice.” Ravage tips his beer in Steer’s direction.

  “Murphy, you’re awfully quiet over there,” Jigsaw sings out, ignoring the murder faces from half the group.

  “Fuck off,” Murphy growls without lifting his head.

  “His math tutor,” Teller answers in a bored tone.

  “English!” Murphy corrects.

  “Little Hammer?” Jigsaw calls out to Heidi. Brother just doesn’t know when to quit. Asking Heidi a question like that’s bound to get him knocked out by either Murphy or Teller.

  Heidi doesn’t bother to sit up either. “Prom night cliché.”

  Teller’s eyes widen, and he slowly turns his head. “I fuckin’ knew it, you little liar.”

  “Get over it, big brother.” She flicks her wrist in his direction in a dismissive gesture.