Nashville Boxed Set #1-3

by Bethany Michaels

  I pulled away, laughing. “So you really followed me all the way to Memphis?”

  “Yeah. When you didn’t answer your phone or your door, I called Sydney. She told me you were spending time with your family down here.”

  “I needed them,” I said. “More than I thought. Yet another thing you’ve messed up. I was perfectly happy trying to forget everything about my family and my past, but when you left, I realized I couldn’t. Didn’t want to. They’re no picture postcard. We’re all pretty fucked up, actually. But we can be fucked up together.”

  “They ought to put that on a greeting card.” He grinned. “Can’t wait to meet them.”

  “I’ll remind you of that thirty minutes from now when you see firsthand what I mean.”

  I suddenly remembered he was supposed to be in Nashville. At his big gig.

  “Oh my God, what about Tootsie’s? That’s tonight.”

  “Don’t care.” He pressed a kiss to my mouth.

  I pulled back, “What about Road Kill? You can’t let them down.”

  “Don’t care.” He kissed me again.

  “But—”

  His kissed me some more until I couldn’t think of anything else but how good his lips felt and how much I missed him.

  “Go ahead,” he said, raising his head. “Say something else silly so I can kiss you again.”

  “I’m glad you’re here.”

  He leaned his forehead against mine and let out a long breath. “Me, too.”

  Epilogue

  Music City Tattler

  Country superstar Dex Wilder made a surprise appearance at Tootsie’s Orchid Lounge last week, appearing with local favorite, Road Kill. Wilder’s girlfriend and former Road Kill lead singer, Sydney Stratton, tells the Tattler that Wilder was happy to fill in at the last minute for talented and popular guitarist Dillon Phillips, who, she says, had a sudden urge to see Graceland.

  The band rocked the house for over three hours and this reporter can only speculate that the road trip to Memphis rocked just as much since Phillips reportedly returned home with a new Elvis tattoo—and a new fiancée—on his arm. Inside sources say Phillips will leave the band to spend more time with his family and to open his own music center and educational facility in east Nashville.

  Phillips’s bride-to-be, Rebecca Shaw, will be busy with more than planning a wedding in the coming months. Wilder confirmed he will be producing Shaw’s debut album. Miss Shaw is a well-known demo singer, often hired by some of Music City’s most successful songwriters. Wilder says he is thrilled Shaw finally agreed to go out on her own and that he is confident her drive and talent will take her right to the top of the charts.

  The End

  Nashville Bound

  By

  Bethany Michaels

  Prologue

  Seven years ago

  Though I'd been taught not to flirt with the hired help from the time I stepped aboard my first tour bus, my new opening act made me forget all about the “shoulds” the moment he sauntered onto my stage.

  Shay Rogan had joined my tour when we'd kicked off the Southern leg of my Sweet as Pie tour in Jackson, Mississippi. Though I'd heard his single on the radio and seen his picture in Country Weekly and Billboard, I had never met him in person until Jackson. Once I shook his hand and looked into his sapphire eyes, it was easy to see how he had garnered such a large female following so quickly. He was every cowboy junkie's fantasy with his rumpled t-shirts, snug jeans, and dark messy hair that made him look like he'd just rolled out of some lucky woman's bed. His eyes were deep set, at a slight angle and framed by sooty black lashes. When he looked at me, it was with an intensity that made me feel as if he could see right into the core of me.

  In Jackson I'd simply stared at him, admiring him like a pin-up hunk whether he was rehearsing with the band, shooting hoops with the roadies or simply sipping a Coke and chatting with the t-shirt guy. By the time we pulled into Atlanta, I’d found excuses to walk by his bus on the off-chance I might “accidentally” bump into him. In Wilmington, we’d grabbed lunch once the sound check was done, though I could hardly swallow a bite, let alone recall what I ate.

  By the time the tour rolled into Raleigh, I was having full-on fantasies about him. I wanted to run my fingers through his sexy hair and trail them down the hard planes of his belly until I could get him out of those jeans and see if reality lived up to my extremely optimistic imagination.

  Sexual tension crackled in the air between us all day as we hung out watching the set go up and talking about movies and music and his ex-girlfriends—I didn't have any exes to speak of, having worked and toured since I was 15. Then once he went on stage to open the show, I watched from the wings as he seduced the audience with his looks, talent, and charisma, just as easily as he was seducing me.

  With each song he sang, each suggestive sway of his hips, I fell more deeply in lust with him. I needed him with an intensity that rivaled my need to perform on stage. After his set, I went on to play mine and I could barely remember the lyrics to my own songs. I could feel his gaze on me as if it were his warm hands gliding over the curves of my body. There was no doubt about how the evening would end. All the moments we'd spent looking at each other in the past week, every laugh, every brush of hands—it had all been foreplay.

  I wasn't surprised when I arrived in my dressing room after the show to fin d e Shay waiting for me. No words were necessary. I was breathless, my heart beating like a butterfly’s wings anticipating that first touch. Once I looked into his eyes and saw the matching need burning there like blue flame, I knew there was no denying it any longer.

  Two hours under the lights in stage gear had sweat dripping down my forehead. I was sure my make-up was smudged and my hair had to be a mess. None of it mattered now. The whole focus of my world narrowed until it was comprised of Shay, not the consequences of what I was doing or what anyone, including Daddy, might think. Only Shay.

  Shay reached behind me and flipped the lock on the dressing room door.

  My breath caught and then his lips were on mine. He kissed me hard, his desire for me an almost tangible thing burning between us. His t-shirt was damp from the shower he’d had after his own performance and I had the sudden urge to rip it off so I could touch him, pressing my heated skin to his. His scent was an aphrodisiac, all male and soap and need.

  But I knew it would only be a matter of minutes before Daddy showed up for the post-concert run-down. "Not here," I managed to say when we came up for air. "My bus."

  Shay shook his head. "Mine. No one will look for you there."

  I bit my lip, wanting to go to him desperately, but still a little afraid of what I was about to do. At 23, I wasn't a virgin, but I had a sweet, all-American girl-next-door persona, carefully crafted by Daddy, my publicist and the record label. One tabloid picture of me doing the morning-after walk of shame would cause a huge ripple that would blow that image to hell.

  But I craved Shay more than my next breath and all the rest of my world fell away, unimportant details. My heart thundering in my ears, I nodded. "Let's go."

  He grabbed my hand and opened the door to the dressing room. Throngs of people were gathered outside—fans, PR people, reporters. Shay pulled me past all of them. I knew they stared. Some snapped pictures, but Shay didn't care and neither did I. I put my head down and allowed Shay to lead me from my dressing room, out the loading dock door and across the parking lot to his tour bus.

  His quarters were smaller than mine, of course. Messier, too, but that barely registered when Shay locked the door and led me back to the bedroom. There were no preliminaries, no questions, no second thoughts.

  Shay peeled off his t-shirt and tossed it onto a nearby chair. Approaching him, I smiled and ran a hand down the wall of his chest. He sucked in his breath but never broke eye contact or moved to touch me.

  "I've wanted you since I first heard your beautiful, sexy voice on the radio," he said. "This is like a fantasy come to life."

&nbs
p; I nodded, not wanting to ruin the moment with words. I had received creepy fan letters, sexual in nature, from men since I had cut my first record at age 14. But coming from Shay's lips the words were a compliment, part of the foreplay. I wanted him to want me. It evened the playing field somehow.

  I circled his flat male nipple with one finger, loving the way his gaze intensified until it was like a laser beaming right into my core.

  "Shelly May." It was a warning and a promise and just the sound of my name on his lips had me clenching my thighs, heat and pressure building quickly.

  I bit my lip. The certainty that if I didn't have him in the next few minutes I would burst into flames terrified me. And excited me.

  He shoved his hands into my hair and brought my face close to his.

  "Do you want this? Want me?"

  I nodded, finding that I was even more turned on by his aggression, his taking charge of the situation. "Yes."

  He kissed me roughly, not holding back one bit of his passion. Backing me up until the bed hit the backs of my knees, Shay forced me to sit down. His fly was in my direct line of sight. Seeing the physical proof of how much he wanted me and how much of him there would be to take made me pause.

  "Pop the button."

  It wasn't a request, but a command, spoken softly in a deep , husky tones. The soft vowels of his Oklahoma accent were more pronounced, as if he wasn't capable of editing, even if he'd wanted to.

  "I want your hands on me."

  I did as he asked and undid the button of his jeans. I inched the zipper down carefully over his straining sex and slid my hands inside his waistband to ease his jeans down over his backside until only the thin white cotton of his boxer-briefs separated his flesh from my gaze.

  I looked up at him, waiting for his next command. I wanted to please him, wanted him to command me to do it so that I didn’t have to make any decisions, didn’t have to think about what I was doing, about consequences. He seemed to get that and was more than happy to play the dominant role.

  "Now touch me."

  I did, slipping my hands past the elastic at his waist until I could wrap my fingers around him. I could feel each desperate pulse and I loved knowing that he was as impatient as I was. I pushed his boxer-briefs down so I could look at him. The sight of my small hand wrapped around his sex gave me an erotic charge.

  "Put your mouth on me, Shelly May."

  My stomach flipped in eager anticipation. I leaned forward and licked my lips, looking up at Shay. His gaze was dark, the muscles in his jaw drawn tight. His expression was so different from the laid-back, half teasing grin he normally wore. He was dead serious and dead sexy and I knew I would follow wherever he chose to lead me, just to be the object of his desire even if it was just for one night. The power he had over me was frightening and exciting and all-consuming.

  I closed my eyes and inhaled. He was earthy and sensuous, salty and musky and all male. I flicked my tongue out for one taste of his swollen tip.

  His groan surprised me. The way he gripped my hair almost painfully excited me. Dampness pooled in my cotton panties as I took him into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the entire circumference before drawing him in deeper. I grasped his backside, pulling him even deeper until I felt him hit the back of my throat and heard his rough gasp.

  He strained forward. "Yeah, baby. Oh yeah. Suck me."

  I did as he demanded, cradling his sac as I did so, reveling in the weight and texture.

  Suddenly he pulled back, panting.

  Without a word, he shoved his jeans down and kicked them off. Then he pulled me to my feet and stripped me of my stage costume with a few sharp tugs. I heard the seams of my western-style skirt rip and the rhinestone buttons of my top hit the floor one-by-one as the stitches popped, but I didn't care. At last I stood before him wearing only my plain white bra, panties and thigh-high stockings.

  "Take off your bra."

  Immediately, I reached behind me and unhooked the clasp. I let the undergarment slide down my arms and hit the floor between us.

  "Now your stockings."

  I slid my hands down my bare belly slowly, watching Shay's eyes. The desire that was reflected back at me took my breath away. I always wore thigh-highs during a performance since pantyhose were too hard to get in and out of quickly during costume changes or bathroom breaks. I turned my back to him and put my foot on the bed, slowly rolling the stocking down the length of my leg.

  He moved closer so that I could feel his heat at my back. Grasping my hips, he pressed against me. I felt his erection, the heat of him, the all-consuming size and strength of him and I wasn't sure my knees would support me much longer.

  "The other one," Shay whispered in my ear, before nibbling it gently.

  I dropped my bare leg to the floor and raised the other to bed. I rolled that stocking down slowly, too. His hot breath heated the skin of my nape when he pushed my hair aside and nipped at me. Shivers of desire raced up my spine making it difficult to concentrate on even the simplest task.

  Shay slid his hands around to cover my bare breasts, and I bit back the moan that quivered just behind my lips. It felt so good to be touched, to have that connection with another human being so often absent in the constant work and touring my life had become. I didn’t date, didn’t hang out with friends, didn’t fool around with a cute guy in the back of his pick-up after the Friday night football game. I hadn’t realized how isolated my life had become until Shay touched me and filled up all those empty cold places, too long neglected.

  "I want you naked and bound," he whispered, his voice raspy and so deep I could feel the vibration all over my body. "Tell me you want it, too."

  I’d never done anything like that before. My sexual experience had been limited to a few fumbling one-night stands when I’d played college campuses and the beer had flowed freely at one fraternity house or another. That was really the only time I was ever around guys my own age or people who weren’t paid to be by my side. Of course now that I’d hit the charts in I a big way, even those encounters weren’t possible. I played the show and got back on my bus alone.

  “Will you let me?” he asked again. “I won’t hurt you.”

  The thought of being the complete focus of his desire turned my hesitation into anticipation. "Yes."

  I felt him smile against the side of my neck. "Good."

  Shay pressed another kiss to the burning column of my throat before turning me around and forcing me onto the bed. Gathering up my discarded stockings, he followed me down and settled his hips between my legs. I arched, needing his weight, his pressure right there.

  He looked down at me and smiled darkly. "I’ve always imagined you like this," he said. "Hot and sexy and a little bit naughty. I just never thought I'd be lucky enough to find out for myself how sexy you are in person."

  I writhed beneath him, craving his touch—it didn't matter where. I just needed to feel his mouth, his tongue and his hands on me and in me.

  Shay stretched one stocking out and tied one wrist, th e a n the other. I tested the knot and when I couldn't get loose, I cried out, already on the verge of climaxing.

  "Too tight?" Shay asked, his brow furrowing with concern.

  "No," I said breathlessly. "No. Not too tight."

  Shay smiled, understanding, and reached for my bound hands, tying the other stocking around the center span between my wrists then to the headboard.

  I tugged but was held fast by the bindings. A small wave of panic widened my eyes and I wondered for a split second what I was doing here, in the bed of a man I hardly knew, tied down and at his mercy. But as soon as Shay dragged a fingertip down the center of my taught taut body, the only thought in my head was "more."

  "You are so sexy this way," Shay said. "So beautiful."

  Moving down my body, Shay's hands skimmed over my breasts and belly. He kissed my navel, circling the indentation with his tongue. My hips bucked. I wanted his mouth and his touch lower, where I ached the most.


  Fingers dipped through my thatch of curls to tease my clit.

  "You're wet for me. You like this, don't you?"

  There was no need to speak. My body told him all he needed to know.

  "Please," I said, not sure how much more erotic torture I could take. I gritted my teeth. Never had I been so ready, so hot, so needy. The bindings at my wrists tightened when I pulled, which only heightened my desire.

  I never would have thought something so kinky would push my buttons, but it did. Bound and helpless, there was no choice, no going back. I could turn everything over to Shay and just enjoy the ride.

  Shay leaned in and kissed me, stroking my clit for a brief moment before taking his fingers away. "I want to taste you, baby, but I'm not sure I could hold out if I did." He sat up and fumbled with the condom he'd gotten out of his wallet. "Next time, baby. Next time I'll love you with my mouth. I want to hear you scream with pleasure and to know I’m the reason."

  He moved between my thighs and I felt him at my entrance, hot and hard. "But for now we'll just have to settle for this."

  He pushed inside in one long slow thrust and I gasped at the intimate invasion. He took up every bit of available space and then some.

  "You OK?"

  I nodded. It had been a while since I’d been with anyone and it took my body a moment to acclimate.

  "Good. Because I'm not sure I could stop."

  He froze, not moving, but breathing heavily. He took my face in his hands and kissed my mouth, his tongue sweeping inside, taking what he wanted and leaving pleasure in its wake. I closed my eyes and kissed him back, totally aware of every inch of his flesh pulsing inside me.

  He groaned deeply, breaking the kiss. "Ready, baby?"

  He moved a little, then, withdrawing inch by inch. The friction worked my nerve endings, hitting all the most pleasurable spots. I arched upwards, anticipating the next drive home.