Rhythm of the Road

by Autumn Jones Lake

  “Thanks.”

  Shelby runs straight for me, bright-eyed and breathless. “What’d you think?”

  “You were amazing.” I pick her up for a quick kiss but she loops her arms over my head and her legs around my waist, hanging on tight. “Easy,” I groan into her mouth. “People around.”

  “I don’t care,” she whispers against my lips.

  Next to us, someone clears their throat.

  I growl at the intrusion. Shelby unwinds her body from me and I set her down.

  Greg’s exasperated scowl pulls a laugh from me.

  “I suppose you’re taking off?” he says to Shelby.

  “If that’s all right, yeah.” She slips her hand into mine. “I’m done, right?”

  “Yeah, go on.”

  “I need to change first and load up my stuff.” She tugs me forward.

  Greg stops me with a hand against my chest.

  Slowly, I drop my gaze. “Careful, Greg. Last man who did that is walking around with a bloody stump.”

  He snatches his hand away. “We’re at the inn behind the arena. She needs to be there by ten a.m.”

  Fuck, that’s earlier than I’d planned. “Yeah, okay. We’ll be at the Crown on Water Street.”

  He raises an eyebrow. Where’d he expect me to take her? Some fleabag motel that rents rooms by the hour?

  His attitude evaporates and he squeezes Shelby’s shoulder. “Good show tonight. I think it was your best one yet.”

  “You liked ‘Friends in Low Places?’” She grins.

  “Yes, that was a great ender. But I’m talking about your performance. Good job.”

  “Thanks.”

  “See you tomorrow.”

  Trent’s waiting in her dressing room. “I wasn’t sure what you wanted me to put in the van?” He gestures to her trunk and the different bags scattered around.

  “Shoot.” Shelby bites her lip. “The trunk definitely. I have my backpack ready for tonight, so I’ll keep that and my purse.” She glances down. “But I need to pack up my dress.”

  “I’ll bring the trunk with us, Trent,” I offer. “You’re not leaving right now, are you?”

  “Nah, we’ll be here for a bit.” He gathers up some of her other things. “Guitar’s already up there. You don’t need it, right?”

  “Nope. All set.” She walks him to the door and locks it after he leaves.

  “What do you need me to do, Shelby?” I ask, sorting through the stuff spilling out of her trunk. “You got a hanger or something you want the dress on?”

  “Take out your cock.”

  “What now?” I turn my attention from the trunk to her.

  She kicks her shoes in the direction of the trunk, hitting the side with two solid thumps. “You heard me.” Her hips sway as she closes the short distance between us. She presses her hands against my chest and pushes.

  I smile down at her. “You’re gonna have to be stronger than that to take me down.”

  “That right?” She slides her hands lower, cupping me through my jeans.

  “Fuck.” My eyes close. She gives me another shove and this time I topple onto the couch.

  “That’s better.” She gathers her skirt and slips her hands underneath it. A few seconds later, her little shorts and her underwear sail toward the trunk.

  My heart hammers. “What are you doing?”

  She bends her leg, gently setting it on the couch cushion next to my thigh, and lowers herself onto my lap. “I said, take out your cock.”

  “Told you I wanted to eat your pussy first.” I grin at her and lace my fingers behind my head, easing into the couch.

  “I’m all sweaty and need a shower.”

  “I’ll take you any way I can get you.”

  “Hmm. You’re being awfully difficult.” She shifts back and attacks my belt, pulling it loose and diving for the button of my jeans.

  “You’re not worried about someone—” I flap my hand toward the door, all words falling out of my brain as she starts stroking my cock. “Fuck.”

  “Door’s locked.” She sneaks her hand in my pocket and pulls a condom free. “Good man.”

  “I like to be prepared.” I wink at her and pluck the packet from her fingers.

  I barely have it rolled on all the way when she rests one hand on my shoulder and uses the other to hike up her dress, hovering over my lap and lining herself up.

  “Oh fuck,” I groan and squeeze my eyes shut. “I’m glad you’re primed and ready, because this is going to be short.”

  She laughs softly and rakes her nails over my shirt, slowly easing her way down.

  “Oh.” She lets out a soft grunt when she bottoms out.

  I slide my hands up under her dress, appreciating the muscles in her legs straining. “Come on,” I encourage, grabbing her ass cheeks and pushing her forward. There’s too much dress in my way. My hands go to the zipper at her back and tug. “This needs to come off, right?”

  “Y-yes.”

  Tight, tiny little fucking zipper.

  Finally, I tug it down enough that the straps fall off her shoulders. I drag the top down and flick the clasps of her bra loose. “Much better.” I cup her tits, holding them up for my eager mouth, and suck one nipple, then the other.

  “Shit!” She stabs her fingers through my hair, yanking a fistful. “Oh my God, Logan.”

  Her movements turn frantic as she loses her rhythm, her body crashing into mine in a chaotic frenzy.

  “Already?” I kiss and lick at her neck, savoring the salt on her skin.

  “Close,” she whispers.

  “Yeah?” I suck my thumb in my mouth for a second and bring it to her clit, rubbing in quick, firm circles.

  “Yes, yes, yes.” She rides me faster and faster, digging her nails into my shoulders.

  That sexy trembling quiver takes hold of her legs. Fuck, if that doesn’t trigger my own orgasm.

  I clamp my hands over her hips, holding her down while I hammer up into her. The shaking in her legs increases. “Fuck,” I roar through my release.

  Breathless and pulsing with pleasure, I fall back against the couch. She slumps over me, our sweaty bodies clinging together.

  I pinch the material of her dress. “We’re going to ruin this.”

  “Don’t care,” she mumbles against me.

  I run my hands up and down her back. She jumps and wiggles her hips. My softening cock, still inside her, perks up. “Careful,” I warn. “You’re so fucking hot. If you give me a minute, I’ll bend you over the end of the couch.”

  She laughs softly and sits up, carefully extracting herself from my lap.

  I crack open one eye and stare at her. Carefully curled and pinned hair—disheveled. Makeup—obliterated. Dress wrinkled and twisted around her waist. Pink blotches stain her chest and neck. All from our frantic fuck. “You are wrecked, woman.”

  She glances down and giggles, pushing her dress off the rest of the way. “Never felt better, though.”

  “Never looked better, either.” I groan as I sit up. “Was that one of those light-socket orgasms you mentioned?”

  She ducks her head, her tangled hair obscuring her face. “Definitely.”

  I reach for her hand, tugging gently. “I could tell. Your legs shake. Your eyes roll back in your head.”

  “You make me sound demonic.”

  “It’s hot as hell.”

  She giggles again and I tickle her side. “Give me a second to clean up and I’ll help you pack.”

  “Okay.”

  I’m finishing up in the bathroom when she joins me. Sadly, she’s covered—jeans that hug her curvy legs, a long-sleeve T-shirt, and boots. Ready to ride. She holds up a few bottles of liquid or lotion. “I’m going to wash this crap off my face before we go.”

  “Probably a good idea.”

  She gasps when she glances in the mirror. “Why didn’t you tell me I look like a freakshow?”

  “You look fucking hot to me.” I pat her ass as I squeeze past her.
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  The second band must have taken the stage. Loud beats rumble overhead and the dull roar of the crowd pulses through the walls.

  “You want your dress in the trunk?” I call out.

  “Sure.”

  Inside the trunk, I find her laundry bag and I stuff her clothes in there. I toss the shoes in too, hoping that’s where they go. “Anything else?”

  She steps out of the bathroom and scans the couch, dressing table, and chair. “Nope. That’s all of it.”

  I snap the trunk closed and hoist it into my arms.

  “I can ask Trent to bring the hand cart down,” she offers.

  I’m insulted she thinks I can’t carry her coffin-sized trunk of dresses and shoes. “The one with the flamingo stickers all over it? Pass.”

  “My stickers are adorable.” She pouts as she slips the straps of her backpack on.

  “You’re adorable.” Can’t take my damn eyes off her.

  “Hey,” I wait until she lifts her gaze, “come here.”

  She stops in front of me and peers up. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Kiss me.” Holding the trunk out of her way, I lean over and steal a quick kiss. “That’s better.”

  “Was that okay?” Her nervous gaze darts to the shaggy olive green couch and back.

  I laugh so hard the trunk slides from my grip and I catch it with my knee. “Anytime you feel like jumping on my cock, say the word.” I tilt my head toward the door. “Let’s go.”

  Thank fuck I paid attention when Trent brought me down here. Shelby turns left instead of right. Clearly, she has no clue where she’s going.

  “All these places look the same after a while,” she says when I question her.

  “I know. But you should pay better attention. I can’t have you getting lost when you’re someplace unfamiliar.”

  She squints at me.

  Yeah, that sounded harsher than I meant. “Not trying to be bossy.”

  “And yet, you’re so good at it.”

  Shelby

  Tonight, the wrongness of leaving the tour doesn’t chase me from the arena. My show kicked ass. I’m entitled to have a night with my boyfriend.

  The hotel Rooster chose is the fanciest place I’ve ever been. The valet allows Rooster to leave his bike right in front and opens the door to the hotel for us. Several uniformed employees offer respectful low-toned greetings.

  “Where’d you find this place?” I whisper once we’re alone in the mirrored elevator.

  “The magic of the Internet?” He shrugs. “We don’t have much time together. I wanted to take you someplace nice.”

  My pulse pounds harder. I open my mouth but the words in my heart stick in my throat. “You’ve never really told me what you do,” I say instead.

  The elevator chimes and the doors open. Our floor has thick carpet that mutes our steps. We’re not far from the elevator when Rooster stops and slides the key card into the panel on the door.

  “To afford a place like this,” I continue.

  “I’m a simple man, Shelby. If I was by myself, I’d probably camp outside or check into the first place I saw.”

  I shudder at the word camping. “Humans evolved for a reason, ya know. Sleeping outside is like flippin’ off all our ancestors who busted their butts to learn how to build houses and stuff.”

  He roars with laughter. “You like nature. I’ve taken you to a few bonfires.”

  “Yeah, bonfires near a dwelling with indoor plumbing.”

  He chuckles and hooks his arm over my shoulders. The room’s even nicer than I expected. A wall of windows looks out over the harbor, and I’m instantly drawn to it. Rooster flicks on the lamps, and in the glass I follow his reflection as he pulls out his phone, and taps out a message or two.

  “Rooster?”

  He glances up and flicks his phone off. “Sorry, I wanted to send that video to your mom before I forgot.”

  Dang.

  My heart pounds for different reasons. First, that he’s so sweet he remembered to film me singing with Dawson, knowing that my mom would want to see the clip. Second, now she’ll know Rooster’s visiting me on the road and I can—

  My phone buzzes in my pocket.

  Expect a call from her any second.

  “Guess she got the video,” I mumble.

  He chuckles and drops into one of the chairs to unlace his boots.

  “Hey, Momma,” I answer. What are the odds she’ll be happy I’m with a man who’s worried about sending her videos? Every other boyfriend I’ve had acted like I hatched from an egg.

  “Why is Rooster still on tour with you?”

  “Hello to you too.” While the room’s all kinds of fancy—from the plush carpet to the television that raises out of a platform at the end of the bed—it doesn’t offer enough privacy for this phone call.

  I wander down the line of windows until I’m in the opposite corner from Rooster.

  “Don’t sass me,” she says.

  I turn so I’m facing the wall and lower my voice. “He wasn’t far from this show and came to visit me, that’s all.”

  “Shelby.” She sighs. “We talked about this.”

  “No, you talked. I listened.” I lower my voice. “Then I followed my heart.”

  “Hearts are foolish. Listen to your head like I taught you.”

  “Well, my head’s thinking, my momma oughtta be a little more grateful someone even thought to take a video and remembered to send it without me even asking.” Each word shoots out of my mouth like a bullet.

  She’s silent. Holy hell, did I finally win an argument with my mother?

  “That was nice of him,” she concedes. “I sent a thank you.”

  “Good. Now let me tell you my news.”

  “What?”

  “Dawson asked if I’d like to record a song with him when we’re done with the tour.”

  “Oh, Shelby! That’s wonderful.” In a lower voice, she adds, “I see the gossip sites are trying to link you two romantically.”

  “Shoot. Really?”

  “Shelby, you’re not…are you?”

  “No. Jeez.”

  “Well, it wouldn’t be the worst thing. Look what he did for Glenna Wilson’s career.”

  I pull the phone away and stare at it for a second. Did she really just say that? “Are you drunk? I wouldn’t sleep with that producer to win Roadhouse. Why the fuck would I do it now?”

  “Shelby! Language!”

  “Fuck that. I can’t believe you’d even suggest—”

  “I was kidding. Calm down.”

  Kidding my ass.

  “I need to go. Rooster and I have plans.”

  She sighs. “Please. Guard your heart.”

  “You’re the only one hurting my heart right now.”

  “Don’t say that. You know I love you.”

  “Yeah, I know. Night, Momma.”

  I click the end call button and contemplate tossing my phone out the window.

  Expecting to find Rooster still across the room, I force a smile on my face and spin around.

  He’s right in front of me.

  I jolt back a step.

  In his plain black T-shirt, jeans and bare feet, he’s absolutely mouthwatering.

  My gaze travels up to his face again.

  He’s not smiling.

  And those aren’t his smoldering “I want to eat your pussy” eyes either.

  “You scared me. I thought you were over there.” I jut my chin toward the small chair.

  “You sounded…unhappy. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Is she upset I’m visiting you?”

  I stare down at my phone and the notification that I already have a text from my mother. Dammit. Instead of reading it, I turn it off and set it on one of the nightstands.

  “Honestly?”

  He reaches for my hands. “I always want you to be honest with me.”

  Shame—that shouldn’t be mine in the first place—trickles down my spine. How
the hell do I explain her specific brand of crazy? “She’d prefer I don’t let myself get distracted…with a relationship…and blow the tour or any other opportunities.”

  “Huh.” He tips his head to the side. “And here I thought Lynn liked me.”

  “Oh, she likes you. As a person. Just not as a boyfriend for her daughter right now.” I blow out a breath. Shoot, this is embarrassing to talk about. And yet, Rooster’s the only person I feel comfortable talking to about everything. “She has it in her head that I’m…that I’ll get so twitterpated over you, I’ll drop everything and become your baby-making slave and blow off the career she’s worked so hard for me to have.”

  He stares at me for a few blinks. “Twitterpated?”

  “So crazy in love you can’t think straight.” I squint at him. “Didn’t you ever watch Bambi?”

  “The kid’s movie?”

  “Yeah.” I stomp my foot on the carpet. “Thumper the bunny? Flower? None of that’s ringin’ a bell?”

  A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Bambi is bullshit. A wise old buck is more likely to spar with another male deer than save him from a forest fire. Even if it is his son.”

  “Aha, so you have seen it!”

  He flicks his gaze toward the ceiling. “I may have been in the room when Chance and Alexa watched it at Z’s house. By the way, it’s not a toddler-appropriate movie. The two of them bawled their little eyes out. And Uncle Teller explaining to them that “venison is delicious” didn’t help the situation. A fun time was not had by all.”

  I double over laughing until tears roll down my cheeks.

  When I finally have control of myself, I straighten.

  Rooster’s grinning. “Glad I could cheer you up.” He works his jaw from side to side. “And I needed a second to digest the rest of what you said.”

  The lightness in my heart turns to lead.

  “First, I don’t want a slave. Baby-making or otherwise. Second, you’re the one who works hard. Your success belongs to you. No one else.”

  The instant need to defend my mother burns hot. “You don’t understand. She’s sacrificed—”

  “Maybe I don’t know every detail, Shelby. But I’ve watched you bust your ass. If your mom gave up her singing career, that’s not on you.”

  My temper spikes. “You’re talking over me and not listening.”