Road Games

by Road Games [Bold Strokes FF] (retail) (epub)

  "Please—" I gasped, then moaned as she sucked briefly at the skin just below my jawline.

  She unfastened my buttons, then roughly pulled the shirt over my shoulders. While she undid my belt buckle and pushed my pants down my hips, I struggled with my bra. Somehow, I managed to kick off my shoes and keep my balance as she pulled my slacks over each foot.

  Now on one knee before me, Jordan traced the swollen ridge of my clitoris through my underwear with one fingertip. I wavered on my feet.

  "Mmm," she said, pressing a little lower. "Wet already—I can feel it."

  "For you," I managed to gasp.

  Breathing heavily, she got to her feet and fumbled with her own belt. Her fingers were trembling, and I felt my body grow even heavier with desire. God, I loved that I could affect her so strongly.

  "Take those off," she told me as she began to unbutton her jeans. "Take them off and get on the bed on your hands and knees."

  I swallowed audibly as I pushed the thin cotton down my legs. Unsteadily, I walked toward her bed and climbed on top of it. I hesitated. Her demand was so...wanton, somehow...and for a moment, I wasn't sure I could do what she'd asked. But this was Jordan—Jordan, who saw me for who I really was. Jordan, who had been the first woman to show me what my body could do. I trusted her, and I wanted her so damn badly.

  I got on my hands and knees, facing the headboard, and then I spread my legs as wide as I could, presenting myself to her. See me. Take me. I'm yours tonight.

  "Fuck, Casey...you are so fucking gorgeous, you know that?"

  I concentrated on breathing deeply as I listened to her rummage around in a drawer. And then the bed dipped with her weight, and I trembled in anticipation of her touch.

  She knelt beside me and put one hand on the back of my neck, massaging lightly. She reached under me to tease my breasts with her other hand. I groaned as she slowly tugged and twisted my nipples.

  "I'm gonna bring you up so high," she murmured. "Bring you up so high and keep you there so long before I let you go..."

  I groaned, my hips thrusting helplessly against the empty air. She traced a path down my back as she continued her teasing strokes, then finally slid her hand beneath me. My hips jolted when I felt her playing with the fine hairs at the apex of my thighs.

  "Please," I whispered harshly. "T-touch me, please."

  But she held off for several more minutes, tickling and stroking my belly, touching me everywhere except where I needed her most. And then, when I was almost sobbing in frustration, she slid her thumb into me and lightly circled my clit with one finger.

  "Fuck," I groaned, already so very, very close. She stilled her hand, then moved away from my clit and slowly worked two fingers into me, inch by inch. I shivered and clenched hard around her knuckles.

  "Relax," she said softly. "Just relax. I'm not going to let you come yet—no tightening up. Be open for me. God, Case, I'm going to make you feel so good—I promise. You're exquisite."

  I wanted to laugh hysterically at the idea that I could relax while she was buried inside me, but I did my best to do as she asked. My head hung down between my braced hands and my arms shivered even as I focused on breathing deeply.

  "Yeah, baby, that's it," she crooned. "Good, very good." She thrust into me gently, curling her fingers up on every stroke, moving her other hand to the small of my back to steady me.

  And then she pulled out of me—slowly—but even so, I cried out at the loss.

  "Shh, Casey. It's okay—I got you." She moved an object into my field of vision and I struggled to focus on it. Silvery, long, textured. A dildo. "I'm going to fuck you with this now. Gonna get it all lubed up and then slide it into you and make you come."

  I felt myself get wetter at her words and tossed my head, suddenly frantic to feel her guide the toy inside of me. "P-please," I groaned. "Oh God, please..."

  A moment later, she touched the cool, slippery head to my clit, rubbing it against me in firm circles. My hips jerked and I gasped low in my throat—just a few more seconds like that and I would come, so hard...but she could tell, and so she moved it away.

  "No, please!"

  "Am I keeping my promise?" she said, just before teasing at my opening. I shifted my hips, aching inside, wanting nothing more than to take what she was offering.

  "Fuck, yes....do it—"

  I pressed my forehead into the blanket as she slowly and deliberately pushed the dildo into me, as the gentle pressure of her thrust gradually opened my body. When the toy was all the way inside me, she rocked it in and out just a little. I groaned.

  "This is so sexy," she whispered. "I love taking you this way." And then she twisted it inside me—first back and forth, then spinning it in a gradual circle. The sensation of the ridges brushing against my inner walls felt incredible, but I couldn't come without her fingers on my clit, and I needed to, so badly.

  "Fuck oh fuck gotta come please touch me please—"

  She held off for a few more seconds before finally taking pity on me and reaching around my body. She leaned against my back as her fingertips worked their magic, massaging my clitoris insistently even as she spun and thrust the dildo inside me.

  "Coming—" I managed to choke out before the white-hot waves of ecstasy engulfed me, before my arms gave out and I slumped forward onto the bed, bucking and shivering, dying and being reborn.

  A long time later, she rubbed my back as she slowly worked the toy out of me. And then she lay down and pulled me into her embrace, and I snuggled up against her until my strength returned.

  "Amazing," I said, shifting in her embrace to meet her gaze. "You're...you're incredible, and you know it."

  She flashed me a smile that was half smug and half wondering. Adorable. I moved again until I was lying on top of her, my stomach and breasts pressed to hers. And then I kissed her chin, just because I could.

  "So," she said, smoothing my hair with one hand and tracing the length of my spine with the other. "Senior spring, huh? What are you doing next year?"

  I didn't answer right away, because I was too busy kissing her neck. Besides, I didn't want to think about the fact that next fall, there wouldn't be a game against State to look forward to. That next fall, she'd be out of my life. But finally, I lifted my head long enough to say, "Grad school. Boston. You?"

  She laughed softly. "Art school. Also Boston."

  I raised my head to look at her, unable to suppress what I knew had to be a goofy smile. "Really? That is very, very cool."

  "Really. And, um, I agree." She looked away and cleared her throat. "So...uh...d'you have a roommate yet?" The question came out in a rush. "Because I'm still looking and I was thinking all of a sudden that maybe—"

  I cut off her babble by lunging forward to kiss her. And once I was sure she wouldn't be able to form words for the next several minutes, I kissed my way down her body until my shoulders were pressing her thighs apart.

  "This means yes," I whispered, just before leaning in to taste her.

  Daisy's Chain

  JD Glass

  Act I

  “Dammit, Annie! You’re so…so…”

  “What?” she asked, hands on her hips as she stood by the door of the hotel room. “So damned what?”

  I stared at eyes that glared glacially back at me, a snap of crystal flame that made me wonder, and not for the first time, if she knew how soul-appropriate the sword charm she wore around her neck was. “American,” I said finally. “So fucking stubborn!”

  “Well, I don’t care—I’m not going,” she said. “I absolutely refuse. I’ve got a sound check—I’ll see you at the club.” She whirled and slammed out of our room. The rattling door echoed in the sudden silence.

  Shit. That was not how I’d intended to spend the little time we had before tonight’s gig at La Rocca Ballroom. I knew how nervous Ann was, making her debut singing lead on more than a few songs on the new Loose Dogs album. It was rough luck that the debut performance was Belgium instead of London, where she w
ould have been much more comfortable. And worse, the club the label had selected was known for playing recorded music, not live bands, which meant double the pressure to win over the crowd. But the rottenest cut of all was that Ann, with that quick and clever mind of hers that I found so sexy, knew, without anyone saying a word, why the tour was starting in Belgium instead of London or Berlin where the band had tremendous followings: it wouldn’t damage their reputation if the album bombed. Not that it would, or should—the music was good, and Ann was phenomenal—but still, the undeniable pressure was there.

  “The only good things in Belgium besides the people are the chocolate and the beer—and I don’t even like beer,” she’d said during a fit of nerves on the flight over.

  But fuck all and fuck it twice, she should have been here with me for the next hour or so, balanced on the tip of my tongue, buried inside my cunt, letting me ease the tension I hadn’t had the opportunity to soothe over the last week during the prep for the tour, a tour that would last three months. There were other pressures, too, but we didn’t need to discuss those.

  But we really had to discuss the trip I was set to take after—Rude Records wanted firsthand information on what was happening Stateside, wanted to bring bands there, wanted to scoop and sign new talent. I wasn’t just tour manager, I was also A&R—artists and repertoire—and part of my job was doing exactly that: discovering and signing new blood.

  It would have been perfectly fine for Ann to travel with me and she knew it too. The band would have time off, it was no secret that we’d lived together for the last few years, and as far as cost, well, the label had offered to pay her if she’d provide technical specs of the sound systems at the venues we’d investigate, but no, not Ann: she simply refused to return to the land that had birthed her. And…I knew quite well why, even if I suspected she might be wrong.

  I ran the water for my shower as I mused. I should have dropped the topic when it came up, saved it for another day. Foolish on my part, because right now, all Ann should be focused on, could be focused on, was the show, this first show. She was an amazing performer, charismatically edgy, with razor-sharp sensuality, but if she came before a show, or even if she didn’t…if she hit the stage that stimulated, she was positively deadly; she made the audience want to come with her. It was no small secret at the label as to why she was being not-so-subtly nudged to lead singer.

  I was five years older, it was three years after “discovering” Loose Dogs in a pub in London and a bit more than two and a half since we’d started going together, living together, and I still wasn’t immune to her, not since I’d caught that flash of her eye the first time I’d seen her onstage, then found her after to offer the band a contract, only to find myself a few hours later back in my flat and on the hot end of one of the most exquisitely wanton fucks I’d ever had. She might have been young, but she’d made up for what she didn’t know with a libidinous creativity that left me amazed and breathless, and a complete mastery of the techniques she had in hand, so to speak.

  She’d learned quite a bit more since then and we’d grown quite fond of each other in the interim, but we had only one real rule between us: share the girl or the story. Frankly, it didn’t matter which end you were on with my Annie, it was always hot.

  Poor Ann, I thought, stressed about the tour, stressed about my trip, and almost a week since either one of us could relieve that tension in the way that suited us best, which meant, of course, that neither one of us could be anything other than off-tempered.

  I’d just have to make it up to her, I decided as I went through the luggage and selected my clothes for the evening, something in a shade of blue that would match Ann’s electric eyes.

  The local radio station had made a prize out of having listeners attend the sound check. There were bound to be a few girls there that would catch her eye, and most of them would be more than happy to…meet…their favorite female rock musician before she went onstage for the actual performance.

  Maybe…we’d share her, maybe not. It would be nothing new or unusual since it was something we both enjoyed, but tonight? I’d leave it up to Ann. It made no difference to me how it went, because she’d be brilliant onstage, and after?

  I stepped into the shower and shivered involuntarily, unable to discern whether it was the anticipation of what I knew to expect later or just the shock of the water as it hit my skin.

  Either way, I knew it didn’t matter—in the end, Ann would pour what she had into me.

  When I hit the club less than an hour later, after the requisite small talk with the owner, a small-detail review with the promoter, and a checklist of personal requirements with the manager and technical ones with the sound and lighting techs to make sure everything was dead-on right, I looked up from my clipboard and found what I was looking for: stage left, a nice body decked out in typical underground style—tight, short, silver skirt and combat boots with a face that stared with rapt fascination at my Ann as she worked out the kinks in the sound. In less than thirty seconds I knew who she was: part of the tour, lead singer for the opening act, and a bass player as well, as opposed to the typical fan. The fact that she was out there, so clearly focused on Ann instead of backstage with her band…This would be extremely easy.

  Add to it that she was a musician, and not a typical groupie? So much the better.

  “Are you Marguerite?” I asked over her shoulder as she leaned against the column.

  I couldn’t help but smile as she whirled to answer.

  “Yes, yes I am,” she answered, and I was pleased to see the appreciation in her eyes as she took me in. Well, this was going to be fun.

  “I’m Candace, Candace Neils, the tour manager for Rude Records, specifically for Loose Dogs,” I informed her as I held out my hand. “Your band got added to the tour so quickly—have you met Ann yet?”

  Act II

  You know, it’s the reason I got into rock and roll in the first place. Loose Dogs played my little suck-water town and the next thing you know, every girl who liked girls and all the boys who liked them were forming up into bands, learning to fake it through the songs, that sort of thing. It was Ann, the bass player Ann R. Key, who fired my imagination: tough, cool, and she played a fuckin’ low end that could get the crowd moving from one end of the hall to the other end of the country, and everybody knew it. There was no one, no one at all, who could touch her in terms of pure creativity and technique, though she inspired many to try.

  I watched her run through the sound check, playing with the pre-show crowd that was there, courtesy of a local radio station promotion.

  Tough and tight, that was how she looked and how she played too, a low-slung pair of laced-up leather pants and a sheer blouse that hung open almost to her navel, the only part of her skin that showed except for the occasional flash above her hip when she turned. Those flashes shone edibly.

  I couldn’t help but lick my lips every time I saw that; she was fucking hot—and this was just a rehearsal, a sound check, a “just getting those last touches right” thing.

  But I had to get my head out of my crotch because I had my own stuff to take care of before the show, and I decided I needed two things: a bottle of water and a cold shower.

  “Are you Marguerite?” a low and beautifully modulated voice asked right over my shoulder.

  “Yes, yes I am,” I answered, as I turned to face an incredible pair of tits. I raised my eyes to find a sexily curved smile, sharp cheekbones, and drop-dead-gorgeous green eyes.

  “I’m Candace, Candace Neils, the tour manager,” she informed me as we shook hands. Whatever else she said faded to hearing as well as memory when she asked, “Have you met Ann yet?”

  I shook my head numbly as I tried not to stare quite so avidly at the woman before me. I recognized her from photos I’d seen in several articles about the band. General rumor said she was Ann’s lover, though Ann refused to discuss her private life in interviews, while inside buzz said she was quite—well, it said enough.
Just thinking about it made my mouth go dry.

  Candace’s eyes seemed to sparkle even brighter and she gave me what could only have been an amused smile. “She’ll be done soon. Let’s take you round to the dressing room to meet her then, shall we?”

  I nodded as dumbly as I’d answered before when she gave me the barest hint of a wink and took my arm. From the tone of her voice and the lift to her lips to the way her fingers closed over mine, I knew this wouldn’t be a simple hello: I’d just been chosen.

  I don’t know what kind of questions Candace asked as we walked to the dressing room—surely they were about my band and the tour, and I’m sure that I must have tried to thank her for this opportunity—but before I knew it, we were through the corridor and at the door. Candace let me in, told me Ann would be there shortly, to make myself comfortable, she’d personally come back and in plenty of time to get ready for curtain.

  I barely had a moment to look around and to register that this dressing room was a fair bit bigger than the one I shared with my band before Ann stepped in, holding her bass in her left hand.

  “Hi. Who are you?” she asked, her manner very direct as she carefully set her instrument down in a nearby stand.

  “Marguerite. Candace said—”

  “Candace, huh?” she interrupted and faced me, her expression shifting, flowing, from guarded friendliness to a sultry contemplation.

  “You were standing stage left, by that pillar, yes?”

  My mouth went dry as she closed in on me and I realized she’d seen me, seen me practically drooling over her.

  “Did you enjoy the sound check?” she asked, her voice low, unmistakably sensual, her softened American accent making even the most meaningless of her words both strong and sensual.

  I forgot why I was there, forgot I was in a band, forgot even my name as baby-soft lips kissed me and my heartbeat tripped over itself when her tongue skated over mine.