by Kelly Moore
She releases her legs and slides down my body. Her fingers find the hem of my shirt. I lift my arms, and she rips the shirt over my shoulders. I bend to one knee and raise her shirt, kissing her flat belly, nipping my way up as I remove it. When it’s off, I return to my knee and strip her of her pants, leaving her in skimpy underwear.
Her hips are vibrating as I run my hand down the outside of her thighs, wanting to feel every part of her.
“Take them off.” Her voice is raspy and needy.
I trace my thumb over the lace with one hand. With the other, I part her legs and push the thin material aside. Her head falls against the wall, and she bites her lip with a hiss as I insert a finger.
“You’re so fucking hot,” I moan and remove my finger. I rip the lacy material off her and throw it behind me. As I stand, I streak my hands up her firm body and cup her breasts. Tilting my head down, I draw one perfectly round nipple into my mouth and swirl my tongue around.
She moans, and her hands go to the button on my jeans. I stand tall and push them down below my hips along with my boxers. My cock that’s stone hard bounces out and stands between us.
She gazes down and licks her full lips. My fingers grip into her hip as I lift her up against the wall.
“Is this what you need now? If you tell me no, I’m not sure I can stop,” I growl.
She answers me by raising up and pulling me closer. I shift my hips so that I’m under her. She braces her hands on my shoulders and lowers herself down onto my cock, and I inhale deeply at the heat that’s surrounding my dick. I can’t breathe; if I do, I’ll lose control. She bends her head down and kisses my jawline and then my lips, giving me another place to focus in order to regain my control.
I nip along her shoulder blade, and she arches back, pushing her hips further into me and squeezing. I lose my fucking mind. I grab one of her arms and pin it on the wall above her and rock my hips.
“Yes,” she moans seductively.
I find her other hand and lock it on the wall too. I can’t stop my movements. I thrust, and each one is harder. I feel her get wetter, and she tightens around my cock and screams my name.
“Jameson!”
I thrust again and again until I lose myself. I pull out of her, she slides down my body. I stroke my cock and spill myself between us.
We’re both panting as we continue to kiss one another on our way to the floor. I maneuver so that my back is against the wall, and she straddles me, laying her head on my neck.
My finger wraps in her hair, and I kiss the top of her head repeatedly. “I don’t want you to hurt anymore,” I say softly over and over to comfort her.
She lifts her head and presses her forehead to mine. “Just hold me.”
I stand and take her with me. Yanking up my jeans, I pick her up and carry her upstairs to my room, in my bed. She scoots to the middle.
“I’ll be right back.” I get a towel from the linen closet in the bathroom and douse it with warm water. I take it into her and clean her off, then return to the bathroom and do the same to myself. I rush back to the bedroom and crawl under the sheets with her, and we tangle our bodies and caress one another. “What’s your name, Gypsy?” I ask, hoping she’ll tell me now.
She rolls over, her back to my front. I tuck her in tight. Just when I think she’s drifted off to sleep, I hear her say, “Lyla.” It’s a hushed whisper. I draw her further in, so we are skin to skin, and we fall asleep.
Chapter 7
Morning comes way too early. I’m still tangled with her in the sheets, and she’s sound asleep. “Lyla,” I whisper. Her name sounds as musical as she is. Ever so gently, I move my arm and untwine our legs. I place the sheet over her and throw on a pair of jeans.
I bypass making a cup of coffee and shoot straight toward the control room. Sounds are hissing from the speakers. I didn’t bother turning anything off last night. I back up the music, put on a pair of headphones and make slight adjustments of the sound. When I get to the end, I hear the sounds of her and me having sex in the live room. I decide to leave it and make a copy, cutting off the second one after the end of her last note. I take the first copy out and lock it in a cabinet behind me.
“How did it turn out?” Her voice startles me. She’s wrapped in my bedsheet, and my body instantly wants a repeat of last night.
“It’s perfect.”
She holds her hand out. “Remember our deal.”
I hand it to her. “I do.”
She’s quiet and biting at her lip. “About last night…”
I walk over to her and cover her mouth with mine. “It was perfect too.”
She licks her full lips and gazes up at me. “This is just for now. You know I don’t stay in one place very long.”
“I’ll take what I can get. Besides, you may fall in love with me and never want to leave,” I tease. “Let’s take it one day at a time.”
“Sometimes I can only take moments at a time.” She releases me and sits in a rolling chair.
I squat in front of her. “Will you tell me about that song?”
She shrugs one shoulder. “It’s only a song. No different than the rest.”
“I don’t believe that. I saw your body and the pain that song brought you.”
She stares through me.
“Why won’t you let me in?”
“Because it will break me,” she says softly.
I stand. “I have an idea. Let’s get out of here.” I hold my hand out to her.
“If it requires clothes, I’m not wearing any.” She drops the sheet below her breasts.
I growl and bend down and throw her over my shoulder and storm upstairs. Her giggle is the best thing I’ve ever heard as she bounces on my shoulder. I place her on her feet beside my bed and take her multiple times over the next couple of hours.
She’s wrapped in the sheet again, and her head is laying against my chest, toying with the light spray of hair on my chest. “I still need clothes.” She laughs.
“I’ll take you to your hotel so you can change.”
“I’m not in a hotel. I rented a cottage through Airbnb.”
I rub my hand along her bare back. “Does your band stay there with you?”
“No. I always stay by myself. I like it better that way.”
“Have you always been a loner?”
After a long stretch of silence. “No,” she says, throwing back the sheets and finding her clothes she had on yesterday. “I’ll need to shower before we go anywhere.”
“You can do that here.”
“You have nothing in there that smells remotely like a woman,” she snorts.
“Fair enough.” I climb out of bed. “Do you mind if I get a quick shower?” I point in the direction of the bathroom.
“Not at all.”
“You aren’t going to sneak out on me, are you?”
She walks over to me and kisses me tenderly on the lips. “I promise to wait for you.”
“Good, because I’m going to take you out to have some fun.” I kiss her again quickly, and head for a hot shower.
When I get out, she’s not in my bedroom. I quickly dress in a pair of jeans and a long sleeve T-shirt and slip on a jacket. I lace up my boots and head out to look for her. I find her in the live room, singing into the mic something I’ve heard her sing at the bar. It’s beautiful, and it sounds like a song from a happier time in her life. More upbeat than her norm.
She jumps to the sound of my voice. “Do you write all your own lyrics?”
She puts down the guitar she was strumming. “For the most part. Every now and then I throw in an artist’s song that I like. Elliot and I write the music.”
“How long have you known him?”
“Five years. He was in my…” She stops, frozen, with a lost look on her face. “I’ve known him for a while.” She looks down, brushes by me, and practically runs out the front door.
I pull the keys from my pocket and lock up. I jog to catch up with her. “Hey. Slow down.�
� I snag her elbow.
“I’m sorry. I needed some fresh air.”
I don’t push her on whatever she was going to say. In an instant, she went from easygoing to vulnerable. “My car is parked in the parking garage across the street.” I point in the direction.
“I assumed you didn’t have a car. You seem to walk everywhere.”
I wrap my arm around her waist. “Oh, baby, I have a sweet ride. You’re going to love it.”
“Really? I don’t picture you the fancy car type of guy.” She slips her arm around me, and we cross the street.
“I have a love for two things. One is music. Two is an awesome sports car.”
“Then we have a lot in common.”
“You have a sports car?” I look down at her.
“No, but if you love a sporty car, then I’m thinking you have the need for speed.”
“I do love when I get to open her up on the road. What do you drive?”
“Ride,” she says.
I chuckle. “Why didn’t I guess you ride a motorcycle?”
“A crotch rocket.”
I stop dead in my tracks. “You have a crotch rocket?”
“Yep. Elliot pulls it behind the van every time we move. I love to ride.”
“This I’ve got to see.” We walk to the second story of the secure parking garage, and I click my remote and the car beeps.
“Oh my God, this is your car?” She runs her hand down the sleek silver paint job of my Porsche 718 Boxster S Roadster.
I open the door and push the button for the roof to come down. I take off my jacket and toss it to her. “You might want to wear this. I know it’s a little cool out today, but I really want to run with the top down.”
She slips it on and slides in the passenger's seat. “I wouldn’t want to ride in this baby any other way.”
God, the smile on her face is beautiful. I get in and fasten my seat belt, and she does the same. The motor purrs to life, and I shift it into reverse. “You going to tell me where you’re staying?”
“Give me your phone, and I’ll put in the address.”
I squeal the tires going down the garage ramp.
“Take a left out of here,” she says, then hands me back my phone. I place it on the dash and follow the directions outside of town. I open the car up when we make it to the interstate. I glance over at her and think how gorgeous she looks. Her blondish brown-colored hair is flying everywhere, but her face is lit up with pure enjoyment.
The ride on the interstate isn’t very long before I turn off into a mountainous area. We ride up almost to the top when the GPS in my phone tells me I’ve arrived. I pull into the long, winding driveway and stop in front of a log cabin-style home.
“This is nice and tucked away.” I can’t help but think it’s just like her.
“I like it,” she says, unbuckling and hopping out of the car.
I join her on the front porch steps that creak when we step on them. She swings open the front door.
“You don’t lock the door?” I look around outside.
“There’s nobody up here but me and a couple of deer.” She shrugs out of my jacket and smooths down her hair. “Make yourself at home while I get a shower.”
I shut the door. “You’ll need to wear warm clothes for what we’re doing,” I yell after her. “And, make sure you wear lip balm.” I really want to climb in the shower with her, but my curiosity about her wins out. I step further inside. The cabin obviously came furnished. The dark colors of the room would not be her taste. I see her with a fluffy couch with brightly colored pillows and walls with the color of sunshine on them. It would fit more her bohemian style. The place barely looks lived in. The kitchen joins the living room in an open area. A single coffee cup is resting on a side table by the tan-colored couch. A brown pillow rests in one corner of the couch, and a baby blue blanket with giraffes on it lay crumpled, hanging off the edge. It strikes me as odd, but I pick it up and fold it, placing in on the arm of the sofa.
On a bookshelf, there is a box with its lid tilted open. I pick it up and set it on the rectangular oak coffee table. There are several stacks of black-and-white composition notebooks. The edges of the pages on each one look tattered like they’ve been gone through a million times. I pick up the top one and flip through some of the pages. They’re lyrics to songs. The words are sad and make me ache. I see the one she sang at the studio, and there are dried tear stains on the page. My curiosity even stronger, I dig through the box and pick up the notebook on the very bottom. The songs are happy and carefree, more like the person I think she really is on the inside until whatever changed her took over.
“What are you doing?”
I nearly drop the box on the floor. I hop up and turn around. She’s standing behind the couch with a white towel wrapped around her, and she has one in her hand, drying her hair.
“I’m sorry. I wanted some insight into you.” I place the lid back on the box and put it back where I found it.
“That’s the only thing personal I take with me, wherever I go.” She’s staring at me.
“The lyrics are sad.”
She turns around, heads over to the kitchen, pulls open a cabinet and takes down a bottle of vodka. “Would you like a drink?”
I make my way over to her. “Please don’t.” I place my hand on hers that’s on the cap of the bottle. “I want to spend the day with you. Not the you that wants to be numb. I’m sorry that I went through your things.”
She looks at me, then at the bottle. Biting her lip, she places the bottle back in the cabinet.
“Thank you,” I say and take her in my arms. “You’re going to need your hair dry for where we’re going.” I kiss the top of her wet head. “Think warm clothes.”
“I’m going to follow you on my bike.” She looks up at me.
“Only if you plan on me fucking you when we get there, because I envision you being sexy as hell riding it.”
“I can live with that,” she says, winking at me as she walks away.
This time I follow her. I figure it will keep me out of trouble, but I was wrong. As soon as she took her towel off, she triggered my libido and became fair game.
Chapter 8
I was right. Despite us just having sex, I had a boner the entire time I was driving. She followed my directions perfectly to the outdoor ice-skating rink. I park beside her. She climbs off her powder blue bike and removes her helmet, shaking her head, letting her hair fall between her shoulder blades.
“Damn, that was hot,” I say, placing my arms around her waist from behind her.
“I don’t know where you planned on fucking me here in a completely open area.” She laughs.
“I guess I didn’t think about that. I was thinking with the wrong head.” I chuckle. “Have you ever been ice skating?”
“Yeah. In the house where I grew up in northern Georgia, one of the small lakes would freeze over every winter. I’d spend hours out there pretending I was a professional ice skater.”
I grasp her hand and head over to the oblong ice rink with a low wall surrounding its perimeter. As we stand in line to buy tickets, I hear the slow hum of the Zamboni moving across the ice to its exit. Children dressed in colorful, warm clothing race out— some skate quickly, others hang on to the wall for balance.
We get our tickets and our skates and sit outside the wall of the rink on a long, thin bench. Lyla is all smiles as she fastens her laces tightly. She finishes before me and stands, holding her hand out for me.
We go through the gate, and she releases my hand and takes off. I dig my blades in to catch up with her. I’ve got my bearings on the two blades, until a skater jostles me, throwing me off-balance. I skate into the wall to avoid knocking down another skater.
The slice of her blades cuts into the ice when she comes to a stop beside me. “You okay?” She’s already pink-cheeked and breathless.
I reach up and loosen a piece of stray hair that’s sticking to her lip balm. It’s an innocent
thing, but I can tell it warms her heart. “I’m good.” I hold out my hand this time, and we skate together. After a few laps, I can tell she wants to be set free. “Do you want to show off some of those professional ice-skating moves?” I tease.
“Come here, I’ll teach you.” She drags me to the middle of the rink where little boys and girls are spinning in circles.
“What makes you think I don’t already know how to do this?” I raise a brow.
She lets go of my hand and crosses her arms over her chest. “Okay. Show me your mad skills.”
I’ve lost my mind. I haven’t been out here in years, but stupid me tries anyway. I hold my arms out and start moving my skates. I spin twice and land flat on my ass.
Lyla stands over me laughing with her hand over her mouth.
I attempt to get up and fall again.
Her hand goes to my shoulder. “Please let me help you up.” She’s still giggling.
I lift out my hand to her, and when she uses her weight to help me up, I use mine to pull her down with me, landing her squarely in my lap. She tilts her head back laughing, and we crash on the ice together. Without thinking, I trap her lips with mine.
I only pull back when I hear a small voice say, “Look, Mommy. They’re kissing.”
Lyla wipes her lips with the back of her hand and gazes up at me. “Please don’t make me fall in love with you,” she whispers.
“I can’t help myself. I’ve already fallen for you.” It’s an admission I had no plans of making, but I fell into her. The her she keeps buried on the inside. I feel a passion for her that came out of nowhere, completely unexpected.
She rolls over and pushes herself off the ice. “You can’t. I won’t let you.” She skates off, and I get up and chase after her.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.”
“That doesn’t make it any less true.” She moves off the ice in a huff and sits back on the bench.