Rhythm of the Road

by Autumn Jones Lake

  “Nice, huh? I can do better than nice.”

  My hips jerk as if my body understood his words and wholeheartedly agrees.

  “Spread your legs,” he demands.

  “You make those words so sexy.”

  He kisses my neck up to my earlobe and nips. A shiver of pleasure shoots down my back and I hurry to move my feet apart.

  A soft whine spills out of me as he sneaks his fingers under my panties.

  “I can’t wait to fuck you later,” he whispers against my ear.

  I suck in a sharp breath. “Me too.”

  He slides one finger between my lips, teasing. “Gonna eat your pussy first.”

  I can’t form any words but I nod eagerly.

  “You like that, don’t you?”

  “Yes. God, yes. You’re the best I’ve—” I snap my mouth shut. Don’t compare him to anyone else!

  He doesn’t seem offended. Laughter rumbles out of him for a brief second. “Good to know.” He keeps sliding his fingers in my wetness, teasing around my clit but not quite touching where I’m throbbing the most. I whine again and he squeezes the arm around me tighter. “What do you need?”

  “Make me come. Please? Oh God. I really, really need…” He slips one finger inside me and my panting breath steals the rest of my words.

  “Fuck,” he groans.

  I open my eyes and watch him in the mirror. Sexy, tortured man. Eyes shut tight.

  “Let me take care of you too,” I whisper.

  “You will.” He kisses my cheek. “Later.”

  He slowly pumps one finger inside me, pressing the heel of his hand into my clit.

  Off-balance, half-crazed with need, I stumble forward, pressing my palms to the mirror.

  “That’s nice.” He grips my hip. “Stick your ass out and spread your legs more.”

  A delicious tremble shimmies up my legs as he continues stroking. My whole universe centers on the point of pleasure. He slips his finger out and finally circles my clit, lightly pinching, the right amount of gentle but firm pressure I need to be set free.

  “Oh!” I gasp and slap my hand against the mirror.

  “That’s it. Come for me, Shelby. Let go.”

  I whimper and shake as he continues working me into a wobbling mess. My knees buckle and Rooster’s there with an arm around my waist to keep me upright. My head drops forward, my cheek resting against the cool glass. Breath. I can’t catch it. Rooster takes a moment to smooth my dress into place.

  Warm satisfaction replaces the anxiety that was flowing through my veins.

  “Thank you,” I whisper.

  After a heartbeat, I turn and rest my palms against his chest. “Don’t laugh at me.”

  He chuckles and places a finger under my chin, tipping my head back. “What’s on your mind?”

  “I never knew there were different kinds of orgasms.”

  He chokes down a laugh. “How so?”

  I should’ve kept my mouth shut. That orgasm will have to be added to the list under the heading ones that make me say stupid stuff.

  “Shelby?” he prompts.

  “Nothing.” I shake my head and try to pull away, but he holds me in place.

  I sigh. “I don’t know. Sometimes it feels like you’ve stuck my clit in a light socket and others are an out-of-body meditative experience.”

  His eyebrows draw down. No longer laughing, he studies my face. “That first one sounds painful.”

  “It is almost.” I squeeze my eyes shut, throbbing from the thought. “But bliss too.” Shoot, maybe I’ve insulted him. “Every one is amazing, though. No matter what.”

  Instead of answering, he leans down and brushes his lips against mine.

  Rooster

  I’m not sure how to respond to Shelby’s description. For lots of reasons.

  One, I’ve never been with a woman quite like her. Responsive and so damn honest. But comparing her to past fucks is a dick move, so I can’t say that.

  Two, I’m tempted to strip her naked and perform a scientific experiment. One where we discover exactly how many different kinds of orgasms I can give her. Maybe even have her write me a song about each one. But we don’t have enough time.

  So I kiss her instead. Unfortunately, that seems to leave her more unsure. When I pull away, she fiddles with her dress and hair, her gaze darting around the small room.

  I squeeze her hips to get her attention. “Shelby, that’s both the sweetest and hottest thing a woman’s ever said to me.”

  Fuck, that wasn’t helpful. At all.

  She doesn’t seem offended, thank fuck. Nope, she meets my eyes. “Really? I feel silly. Maybe I should add that as a third kind—the orgasm that makes me say dumb stuff.”

  “It’s not dumb at all. I love the way you express yourself. I can’t come up with pretty words the way you do.” I tuck her hair behind her ear. Good thing Cindy’s returning to fix Shelby’s makeup, since I kinda messed up her hair too. “All my brain can conjure up are words like, touch. Lick. Kiss. Mine. The basics.”

  A full-body shiver sweeps over her. “Well, that’s something, I guess.”

  “Beautiful. That’s another word. But it doesn’t seem adequate to describe you. Sexy doesn’t quite cut it either.” No, I need a whole new word. Her skin’s all flushed, her golden curls a little mussed from where she’d been leaning against me. The crystal I gave her glitters against her creamy skin. Her plump breasts almost spilling out of the tight, low-cut dress are begging for my hands. My gaze drops to her lush, curvy hips exaggerated by the wide, shiny blue belt wrapped around the dip of her waist.

  I shift, adjusting myself. My damn cock’s ready to bust through my jeans and wave at her.

  “Rooster.” She sighs and wraps her arms around me, hugging me tight, not helping my imprisoned cock one bit. “I’m so happy you’re here.” She tips her head back. “For you. Not the orgasms. Those are a fantastic bonus, though.”

  Forget my tortured cock—there’s that strange sensation pulsing through me again. That L word that’s getting harder and harder not to say every time I’m with her. “I’m happy I’m here too. Made a hotel reservation at a place down by the water for us tonight.”

  “You did? You didn’t have to do that.”

  “Yeah, I did. And I want to take you to an early lunch or something before you leave tomorrow.” Fuck, why am I bringing up that she’s leaving when I just got my hands on her?

  “Why? You don’t have to do any of that.”

  I squeeze her hips, seeking her softness under the layers of dress in my way. “I want to.” Seems like whenever we’re together we’re racing off somewhere or fucking. “I want to take you out on a normal date.”

  “What’s normal for us?” She presses her hand over my heart. “You do so many sweet, helpful things that mean so much more than a dinner date.”

  I wrap my fingers around hers, lifting her hand and brushing my lips over her inner wrist. “Just want you to know you’re special.”

  “You always make me feel special.” She titters with laughter. “That tickles.”

  Someone knocks on the dressing room door, cutting off our conversation. Judging by the persistent pounding, they’re not leaving.

  “Dang.” Shelby spins away, curling her hand around the doorknob. She hesitates then turns and reaches up to give me a quick kiss on the cheek.

  Like a complete sap, I press my fingers to the spot briefly before following her out of the bathroom. Good thing she’s tiny. My long legs make it to the door faster. I hold out my arm to keep her behind me while I open it.

  She huffs. “I answer my own door all the time.”

  “Humor me.”

  Cindy holds up her makeup case. “Just me.” Her gaze shoots to Shelby and she wiggles her eyebrows. “Good to see you again, Logan.”

  I run my hand over my beard, opening the door wider for Cindy to come in, amused as hell. Sounds like they’ve been chatting about me in my absence. Good stuff, if Cindy’s beaming smile i
s any indication.

  “You need anything?” I ask Shelby. “Want your tea?”

  “If you don’t mind.”

  “Nope. Be right back.”

  Shelby

  “What have you been up to since I left?” Cindy touches my shoulder. “You’re all flushed.”

  My cheeks burn even hotter under the pounds of makeup. I peer in the mirror. Splotches of pink stain my chest. Might as well hang a “got some” sign around my neck. “Nothin’.”

  “Hmm.” She smooths the messy curls at the back of my head. “Someone got lucky.”

  “Maybe a little.”

  “Can’t blame you.” Her gaze darts to the door. “I’d ride that man like a mechanical bull.”

  It’s a teasing comment, meant to be a compliment to Logan, I’m sure. Still, a white-hot prick of jealousy stabs my heart.

  “Shoot. I’m kidding, Shelby.” She squeezes the tops of my arms.

  I force a smile.

  Rooster returns with my tea while she’s fixing my hair. I have a few quick swallows before she starts lining my lips.

  “I hate this stuff,” I mumble. “My lips are always so dry after I take it off.”

  “I know,” she murmurs. “Hard to find something that’ll stay put during your set. Open. Now blot.” She stands back, running her gaze over me, and I flash a bright smile. “Perfect.”

  She wags her finger in Rooster’s direction. “Don’t mess up my work.”

  He rumbles with laughter and holds his hands in the air. “I’ll do my best.”

  “Good luck tonight, hon.”

  “Thanks.”

  The jitters pop up as soon as she leaves.

  “Come here,” Rooster says softly.

  “You heard Cindy,” I say as I approach.

  “I’ll behave.” He holds out his hands to me, and I curl my fingers around his. “You look amazing. How’s your throat feel?”

  I hum a few notes. “Okay.”

  “Good.” He pulls me down into his lap, draping my legs sideways over his. Carefully, I rest my head on his shoulder. The steady thump of his heart grounds and reassures me.

  “I could go to sleep like this.”

  He kisses my forehead. “Relax for a few minutes.”

  “Okay.”

  My set list, the things I want to say to the crowd tonight all float through my head. I picture myself strong, and hitting every note perfectly. Eventually, I drift away, hovering somewhere between sleep and awake.

  Vaguely, I’m aware of someone knocking and the door opening.

  “She feelin’ all right?”

  Dawson’s voice.

  “Yeah,” Rooster rumbles.

  I drag myself back to consciousness, blinking and sitting up. Only mildly embarrassed to be caught taking a catnap in my boyfriend’s embrace.

  “You all right, little lady?” Dawson flashes me a warm smile.

  Great. The last thing I need is him thinking I can’t handle the stress of the tour. “Just resting before my set. What’s up?”

  He closes the door behind him and drops into the chair across from us. Guess he’s sticking around to chat.

  Feeling a bit unprofessional sitting in Rooster’s lap, I slide down until my butt hits the couch cushions and face Dawson. “What’s on your mind?”

  He shoots a look Rooster’s way before speaking. “Would ya be offended if I took the stage with you instead tonight? Last song. Mix things up a little?”

  I blink and sit back, trying to digest that.

  Dawson Roads wants to perform with me? During my set?

  The star of the tour is lowering himself and going on stage early? With the opening act?

  He seems to take my hesitation for disagreement, sitting back and holding up his hands. “Won’t cut you short, promise.”

  “No, no. It’s not that. Just…why? I’m the opener. Seats aren’t even full during my slot.”

  “Let’s teach those fuckers a lesson.” He grins. “They oughtta be here earlier.”

  Next to me, Rooster chuckles.

  “Sure. Of course,” I answer. Why the heck am I questioning Dawson Roads, anyway? I work a little more graciousness into my tone. “I’m honored to share the stage with you anytime.”

  He rubs his hand over his chin and leans forward, resting one elbow on his knee. “I didn’t get a chance to discuss this with Greg yet, but you’re going into the studio right after we get off the road, right?”

  “Uh, yeah.” I glance at Rooster. “Planning to spend a few days at home. Visit my momma first.”

  “How would you feel about recording something together?”

  “I’d love to!” I wince from the enthusiasm in my voice and try to settle down. “That would be great.”

  “Not ‘Let the Night Go.’” He lets out a humorless laugh. “Glenna would sue me to hell and back if I re-recorded it with someone else.” His expression turns sour for a second before his gaze lands on Logan. “It was good seeing your friend the other night. Got in touch with his people. Going to see if we can work on something together.”

  Rooster’s eyes widen a touch, then his expression flattens. “Wasn’t aware Chaser had ‘people,’ but that sounds good.”

  Dawson shrugs. This is all kinds of weird.

  “Dawson, I appreciate the opportunity. A lot.” I drop my gaze. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but you’re not just offering to work with me to, you know, piss off Glenna, are you?”

  When he doesn’t answer, I lift my gaze and find him stroking his chin, staring at me in a thoughtful way. Not mean or angry at least. “Shelby, I think you’re one of the most talented singers to come offa one of those foolish reality shows in years. You got chewed up and spit out in the name of drama and ratings. Hated to see it.”

  I wasn’t aware he’d actually watched Redneck Roadhouse, and I cringe, remembering some of the worst moments.

  “You attract a slightly younger audience,” he continues, “and you’re getting some mainstream airplay, which I’ve never really managed to crack.”

  I blink and stare. He’s dominated the country charts for close to fifteen years. Who knew Dawson Roads gave a crap about mainstream anything?

  “And I think you working with me helps expose you to an older audience, so they can discover you’re more than a cutesy teenager singing about ponies and boy troubles.”

  “Of course. You’re right. I’m—”

  “But if it happens to piss Glenna off at the same time, I ain’t mad about it. God’s honest truth.” He raises his left hand, then shrugs. “I’m only human.”

  Dang. That’s a bummer.

  But I respect his honesty. At least he didn’t try gaslighting me for asking the question.

  He slaps his hands against his knees. “Good. You know ‘Friends in Low Places?’ Everyone knows it. We’ll do that tonight. That all right with you?”

  “Uh, sure. I’ll let the guys know.”

  “Don’t cut your set. Just add it in after your last song.”

  “Okay.”

  “Thanks, darlin’. Good seein’ ya, Logan.” He waves at us over his shoulder and leaves.

  I blink and stare at the door. After a few seconds, I glance down and pinch my arm. “Did that just happen?”

  When Rooster doesn’t answer, I peer up at him. He’s watching the door.

  “I can’t believe I asked him that.”

  “What?” He turns his attention to me.

  “About his ex. Oh my gosh. Here he is doing me a huge favor. That wasn’t polite.”

  A scowl slashes across Rooster’s forehead. “Fuck polite. I woulda asked the same thing. Is that even normal?”

  “Yeah, I’ve seen a few shows where the bands mix it up like that. Usually if they’re friendly or whatever. Cindy and I were talking the other day.” I lower my voice. “And it hit me that the only reason he was asking me to come out and sing with him was to get back at his ex.”

  “I don’t think that’s the only reason. But it seems to
be a bonus. Least he admits it.” He squeezes my leg. “It’s good you spoke up. He’ll respect you more for not kissing his ass. And respect goes all around. You gotta respect yourself. Don’t let anyone bullshit you.”

  I turn that over in my head for a bit. “I’m so new at the business. I’ve never even met Glenna Wilson, and now I’m making an enemy out of her. Feels kinda anti-girl-power to be singing with her ex.”

  Being VP of a motorcycle club—not exactly all about female empowerment—I almost expect Rooster to laugh. But he tilts his head, studying me for a few seconds. “You said it yourself. Never even met her. You don’t owe her shit. Besides, this is business. Nothing personal.” He leans in and kisses my cheek. “You already have a man,” he says against my ear. “You don’t need hers.”

  Warmth sweeps over my skin, chasing away the unsettling sensation lingering in my belly from the talk with Dawson. “I sure do.”

  And I can’t stop falling head over boots for him either.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Rooster

  Watching Shelby and Dawson belt out ‘Friends in Low Places’ is a thousand times better than the ‘let’s fuck all night’ song they’ve been performing.

  So fucking proud of the way she handled it too. I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I drew blood trying not to laugh when she asked him about his ex.

  The arena’s so damn big, it’s hard to find a good spot to take my video of their duet. Lynn’s gonna be getting a side-stage view. It’s the best I can manage.

  The song winds down and Dawson wraps an arm around Shelby’s shoulders. “Shelby Morgan, everyone. I’ll see y’all later.”

  The building shakes from the screams of the fans as he walks offstage. Fucking brilliant move, honestly. I bet all the seats will be filled for Shelby’s show tomorrow.

  Kinda pissed I’ll miss it.

  Shelby says a few more words, then the lights blink out and a curtain drops.

  “What’d you think?” Dawson asks me.

  Not sure why he gives a shit about my opinion. I hit stop on my phone, shut off the screen and jam it in my pocket. “Sounded good. Recorded it to send to her mom.”

  “Ah.” He slaps my shoulder. “You two have fun. Take her someplace nice.”