Road Games

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

She was a phenomenal musician; she kissed even better.

  When her hands reached for me I moved my own automatically and opened the laces to the pants that covered those amazing hips.

  My nipples were aching hard under her palm, between her fingertips, and I slipped my hand into her pants. She wore nothing beneath them and that jumped my blood, made me go from hard to ready, ready for whatever would happen next.

  “You kiss so beautifully,” she murmured into my throat, leaving one of those hard points lonely cold as she caught my hand in hers and gently stopped me before I could really do anything but feel the heat of her cunt. “I’d love to feel your mouth on me,” she added, then sucked gently on my fingertips.

  Ann R. Key, bassist for Loose Dogs, and my own real live hero, had just asked me to go down on her. I shifted the light leather of her pants when I knelt to discover that Ann kept that pussy tightly trimmed, and as she leaned against the wall, I got my first real taste of rock stardom: sweet.

  She was hard, just fucking rock hard, and she was hot, and wet, and I couldn’t resist flicking the tip of my tongue into that tasty tight opening that yielded to me, then licking from that spot to her fat clit, only to start the delicious trip all over again.

  The feel of that smooth cunt on my face, sliding against my mouth…it was getting me so hot, so fucking wet, I could feel it, and I shifted to relieve the ache in my throbbing clit, ready to take matters into my own hands.

  Either she watched, or she guessed. “Don’t touch it, baby,” she groaned as I applied the flat of my tongue to the underside of her hard-on. “I promise I’ll take care of you—God…” The word scraped from her throat as her head snapped back against the wall.

  I gave her slit one last long taste and glanced up at her. Those beautiful blue eyes had closed and when my lips pushed back the hood that hid her hard-on, I sucked it in.

  “Just…like…that…”

  Act III

  I thought of a girl, the girl, three thousand miles and six feet away. I closed my eyes as the girl with me—the one between my legs—mouthed me, intermittently flicking her tongue into my hungry cunt. “Yeah…that’s nice.” I drifted three thousand miles away, to a shore that looked on this one.

  I needed relief, quick, fucking relief, while my head rested against the wall of the dressing room and my mind drifted across an ocean. Just as her kiss had promised, she did nice work with her tongue.

  “Just suck me, baby,” I told her.

  She might have nodded before she did, it didn’t matter because she closed her lips tightly around my swollen clit; she sucked me nice and hard, she licked me good and slow.

  “Yeah…” I groaned, fucking her face, “that’s it, now.”

  I threaded my fingertips through hair the same color as hers, close enough to remember texture, close enough to bring me back to the beach and an almost-kiss I should have never missed.

  It might have been too long ago, too far away, and way too damn late, but I remembered it vividly, the one that happened months later, and for a moment, it was my mouth on her, the wished-for feel of her riding me, sweet and wet, beautiful and mine, on my lips, that most intimate kiss, a kiss I wanted desperately to return.

  “You got me, shit…that…ah shit yeah…” I choked out as she found the right rhythm, the sweet spot on my clit that brought me out of my head.

  My fingers convulsed in her hair as my clit throbbed like it would explode and I could feel her jaw, her chin, pressed tight against my cunt, working me beautifully, bringing me off.

  “Oh yeah, that’s good, really good,” I encouraged, as her tongue played a slick and steady beat against the hard-on I’d been carrying for what had been too long, and I was dying to come while wishing I wouldn’t before the dream ended, three thousand miles of long ago and far away, where it was me and her like I knew it would be, like it should have been, soft skin and warm sighs, a melt into the warmth of her depths, into mine, her light and my dark, and her cunt clasped around me…

  “Fuck!” I spat between clenched teeth, the final surge of blood fattening my clit when she sucked harder, and for a moment, she filled my cunt, was a scream through my blood, in my heart, a heart that didn’t understand the realness of dirt the way my head did and then I was coming, coming sudden and hard on her face as her lower lip dragged against my dripping cunt.

  I opened my eyes to the room and leaned my spinning head back hard against the wall as I gently stroked the temples of the head between my thighs and caught my breath. I was in a backstage dressing room in Belgium, with a girl who needed to come kneeling with her face against my cunt right before I had to get onstage.

  Finally, I looked down at her, only to see her staring up at me, an uncertainty in her eyes as she chewed her lips, lips that had just done such very good work.

  I was going to have to remember to thank Candace for sending this girl to my dressing room when we saw each other later; we’d quarreled earlier because she told me she had to go to the States, do some research for the label we worked for, and I had flatly refused to go with her. I wouldn’t go back, I had no reason to, and she knew damn well why. But there was no need to think about that now, I thought as I smiled at what was very obviously Candace’s apology with my come on her chin.

  “That was really fucking nice,” I said softly. I cupped her chin in my hand, slick under my fingertips from my cunt, slick from my come. “C’mere. Marguerite, right?”

  I gently pulled her up to me until she stood between my legs, the laces of my pants still loose and wide and hanging as I kissed her, kissed my come off her chin, licked the taste of my cunt on her tongue. I reached around her, a firm grasp on her hips, before I let my hands wander, up silky-smooth muscles, under Lycra and rayon and shiny, shiny silver.

  The tiny bit of whatever she wore under that short little skirt might as well have not existed as my fingers eased unimpeded past it and along her creamy slick folds to squeeze her clit between them. I gripped her ass and pulled her closer to me with my other hand.

  “Ooh…yeah,” she said, a warm rush of air against my throat before she licked it. “But…oh…everyone calls me Daisy.”

  “You’re with the opening band?” I asked, the name kicking something off in the back of my head as I played my fingers in the rich heat of her cunt. She was so slick and swollen; those pretty pussy lips had parted and her hips lightly pumped her clit between my fingers.

  “Uh-huh,” she sighed in agreement to the question, to my hands about to fuck her, my thumb on her hard little clit, fingers coaxing, teasing, a little dip into her hot hole, not so tight now, and definitely ready. She leaned heavily against me and widened her stance between my thighs. “I sing,” she breathed out against my throat.

  Huh. I laughed to myself. I’d thought she was another groupie or a fan, let in during sound check by the radio promoters as a prize or something. Instead, she was the lead singer for our opening band. Very, very, nice prize; it was rare for bands to intermingle on this level—it was all partners or groupies, true love or true lust. I’d really have to thank Candace for stroking my ego so nicely.

  “Fucking gorgeous,” I growled, then nipped lightly at her ear as I thrust my fingers into her waiting cunt—it had waited long enough and eagerly drew me in.

  She gasped softly and pushed her face into my neck. I thumbed her clit and reached with my other hand farther around her ass to spread her hungry pussy a little more. Marguerite was so fucking wet, and as I spread her hole just a bit more, I knew what I wanted to do.

  “You’re gonna like this,” I promised, and she shuddered against me as I filled her cunt from both sides, alternating my rhythm.

  “That’s…that’s so…fuck!” she groaned into my ear.

  “It is,” I agreed. Her back arched slightly as she took me in deeper and in reflex surged forward, not knowing which way to move as I bounced her cunt across my fingers. “Knew you’d like that,” I murmured.

  “Fucking good,” she agreed, rubbing her
cheek against my neck.

  “Lean into me.” I could feel the tension in her body as she rested her weight against my chest. I was so fucking hard again, but it was good, I was back in the here and now, deep inside Marguerite’s cunt and loving it, the heat, the soft, slipping grip on my hands as her fingertips dug into my biceps. I rested my face against her hair.

  “Thirty minutes to curtain.”

  I glanced up to see glittering green eyes.

  “Plenty of time,” I smirked at her as she approached. There was no way I was going to stop what I was doing—Marguerite’s pussy felt too good in my hands, the low sounds she made, the breath against my neck that fanned down my chest, across my breasts, tightening my nipples, bringing my blood where I wanted it to go.

  My smirk widened. I could tell from the appreciative expression on her face that Candace knew exactly…

  Marguerite stirred in my arms and I pulled her closer. “Shh…stay, baby, you’re fine…” I assured her, and I worked her cunt harder to prove it. She gave a short, sharp, little cry as her cunt opened beautifully, and I was that much deeper inside her.

  Candace came closer, then kissed me over Marguerite’s shoulder, fucking my mouth with hers when she recognized the taste on my tongue. Her hands had traveled along my forearms, until they came to rest, one over my knuckles where they disappeared into Marguerite’s steaming cunt from behind, the other holding me firmly inside her.

  “You remember Candace, don’t you?”

  Marguerite lifted fuck-heavy eyes to mine and nodded. What pretty eyes she had, blue and gold, I noted briefly.

  “Hey, love,” Candace whispered behind her. She grinned at me and I knew what she was going to do even before she bit down, then trailed her lips along Marguerite’s neck: we’d done this before, and we drove her crazy, a pattern of touches and teases meant to torment, distract, take her to the very fucking edge and over it, cunt squeezing and screaming.

  Marguerite’s body trembled between us, the anticipation sending a fresh flood of hot silk down my hand. “You can take it, baby,” I murmured, then kissed her neck.

  Candace’s fingers slowly inched over mine as I gently withdrew from behind Marguerite, slid them from that hot little space, slid the others just enough to have those new fingers meet and twine with mine, pad to pad.

  I brought my free hand to Candace’s cheek and she caught my fingers in her mouth, sucking on them delicately, flicking each of the tips as if it was my clit.

  “Oh guy—Christ!” Marguerite groaned as our joined fingers filled her cunt.

  Her pussy tightened as we worked it, a stepped and paced rhythm as Marguerite’s fingers clasped even harder around my biceps, and I increased the pressure on her clit, which jumped under my thumb. Candace pushed her harder onto me and licked long strokes along her neck. I joined her from the other side until our tongues tangled again and I knew she’d be very ready for me to fuck her after the show—and so would I.

  “Sorry,” I mouthed to her, an apology for my fit of pique, when we broke for air.

  “Forgiven?” Candace mouthed back.

  I grinned at her in answer, because I knew what that slick tightening around our fingers meant—our guest was going to come.

  I carefully shifted my fingers around Candace’s in that slick space that hugged me so tightly. Marguerite stiffened.

  “Oh fuck,” she groaned, “holy fuck.” Her fingers now dug into my arms and her hips trembled between my thighs.

  She had nowhere to go, nowhere to move, trapped between me and Candace as we fucked her, a good, hard, and steady drive into her cunt, while her clit pulsed under my thumb. A small, high-pitched noise came from her throat.

  “Welcome to rock ’n’ roll, love,” Candace murmured into her ear before scraping it with her teeth, “the pre-show’s a blast.”

  Marguerite gulped, then nodded, tossing her head back to rest against Candace’s shoulder.

  “I’m gonna…I’m gonna—ohgod…”

  “Oh that’s nice, yeah,” I encouraged, because this was getting me so fucking hot. “You’re so fuckin’ nice and tight…you’re gonna come just like this. C’mon baby….”

  “Uh-huh,” she squeaked out as she pushed off my arms and bore down on the twin pressures invading her cunt as it spasmed, then spasmed again and again, a lovely wet kiss on our fingers as we held her between us.

  “Too…much…” Marguerite finally managed to weakly say.

  I kissed her forehead and Candace nuzzled her neck as first I eased my thumb and then my fingers off and out of her pussy.

  “Time, Ann: you’re cutting it close,” Candace reminded me after I sucked on her tongue while Marguerite breathed along my collarbone.

  “I’ve got to get ready, and so do you,” I murmured into Marguerite’s ear. “I’ll bet you knock ’em dead.” I kissed her softly again; she’d been a good sport, and she had a job to do.

  Marguerite held Candace’s hand as they walked toward the door, but shocked me when she turned around and threw her arms around my neck, then kissed me soundly.

  “Going to the after-party?” she asked after she let me go.

  I quickly glanced over at Candace, who grinned at me before I smiled down at the young woman who pressed herself against me. “No, there’s a show tomorrow,” I told her. “But…I will be early for the sound check.”

  Another night in Belgium, I thought as she released me and opened the door. Candace waved to me before shutting it behind them. Another gig. Considering the plans I’d just made, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all. This was gonna be a great show.

  Test Drive

  Radclyffe

  The minute I walked into the luxury showroom, three guys converged on me like I was live bait tossed into the shark tank. Maybe it was the short red skirt that clung smoothly to the curves of my ass (I knew that because I’d checked it out before I left the house). I guess it might have been the tiny wisps of white lace and silk that peeked out through the opening in my almost-see-through blouse. I’d left the top three buttons undone so when I leaned forward a little bit, the inner curves of my breasts would show. The thin cups of my bra and the black silk blouse didn’t hide the round, firm prominences of my nipples, either.

  Looking for a little action?…How about something special?…You came to the right place.

  Even if I hadn’t been able to read it in their body language, I could hear the word baby at the end of every sentence. I smiled sweetly (the mirror again) and kept walking, adding just a little bit more sway to my hips than my heels actually called for. All three of them followed until I was in the center of the showroom.

  “Maybe you can help me. I’m looking for…” I waited until they leaned forward just a little, moving in unison as if pulled by an invisible magnet centered directly between my tits. “Blaze Vernon.”

  I might have imagined it, but it seemed as if they deflated just a little, like someone had let the air out of a tire. One, with curly dark hair and a five o’clock shadow, said gruffly, “You sure? Because I think I might have just what you’re looking for.”

  “I don’t think so,” I said lightly, stepping slightly to one side so I could see the rest of the room. Another dark-haired, curly-headed sales rep came forward, but this one was a head shorter and a hundred pounds lighter than the three in front of me. She held out her hand, her dark eyes wary but interested.

  “I’m Blaze.”

  While I clasped her fingers and smiled into her eyes, the other three melted away. “You don’t remember me. I’m—”

  “Miranda Sullivan,” she finished for me.

  Surprised, I nodded and reluctantly let go of her hand. We had only been introduced once, at a party the month before, and I was certain she hadn’t taken notice of me. But I had noticed her, and I’d checked around later to ascertain her vital statistics. The most important one checked out just fine—single. The others weren’t as important, but put together, they made a very nice package. Thirty years old, new in
town, ex-jock of some kind—no one was really sure exactly what sport. From her rangy build I would have guessed basketball or golf or lacrosse. She seemed like speed came easily to her. Unfortunately, she had also disappeared from the scene as quickly as she’d appeared. It took some not-so-subtle probing, but I finally tracked down where she worked and, well, sometimes you just have to take the wheel.

  “Mira,” I said. “Call me Mira.”

  “What can I do for you, Mira?”

  I pointed toward a sleek two-seater. “I’d like to take that out for a test drive.”

  Blaze nodded seriously, and maybe she really even believed me. “I need to make a copy of your license.”

  She was only gone for a few minutes, and then she courteously held open the passenger side door for me. “I’ll drive it out of the showroom,” she said, “and then you can take her for a spin.”

  “I’m happy for you to drive,” I said as I slid onto the low, body-hugging seat, my skirt riding high on my thighs. “I’m not all that used to handling a stick.”

  “That’s fine.” Blaze hurried around the front and settled into the driver’s seat. “You just let me know when you’re ready.”

  Once she exited the parking lot and headed toward the expressway, I leaned across the narrow center console, feigning interest in the gauges and dials on the dash. The outside of my left breast rubbed against her arm.

  “This model features the standard front-engine, rear-wheel drivetrain common to most high-performance sports cars,” Blaze said, staring straight ahead.

  “Nice and smooth,” I commented, my nipple tightening as Blaze brushed against it while reaching for the stick shift.

  “Sixteen-valve, six-speed transmission.” Her voice was just a little strained.

  “I imagine it handles well.” I pressed a little harder against her, my nipple resting on her arm just beneath the edge of her short-sleeved shirt. Her tanned skin was hot and my breast tingled. “If you’re not afraid to let all that power out.”

  “Front wishbone/rear multilink suspension.” Blaze wrapped her fingers, which were long and tapered with short, smooth nails, around the head of the gear stick and pushed it into fifth gear. Her knuckles slid along the bare skin of my thigh with the forward motion. As she pulled her hand back, her fingertips followed the path her knuckles had just forged, and I shivered at the unexpected surge of heat.