Bang The Drummer (5 page)

The walls of her cunt pulsated with need, her empty channel hungry for something to fill it. Still, she deliberately denied herself, hitting every nerve with the vibrator before moving it to her clit. The moment the electrical impulses hit that bundle of nerves, she jolted, her hips lifting from the mattress. She circled the swollen knot again and again, driving herself higher and higher toward her peak.

The muscles in her tummy flexed as her climax began to thread its way up from deep inside her. When she could stand it no longer, she thrust the dildo into her pussy, clamped her thighs around it, pinched her nipple as hard as she could…and exploded. Her hips lifted as she rode the thick toy, thrusting it in and out of her spasming walls over and over and over.

Finally, the tremors subsided and her body, now slick with sweat, lay limp on the sheets. She placed the dildo on the nightstand, too spent to clean it tonight, too tired to shower again. Instead, she pulled up the covers and turned on her side. The orgasm had taken the edge off but not completely satisfied her, not in the way a real live man would. The right man, if only she could find him.

As she drifted off to sleep, a face appeared, hazy, surrounded by a mist. The identity shocked her, but the next morning, no matter how she tried, she couldn’t remember who it was.

****

June

“I could have written this entire month off.” Jill leaned back in the seat and watched the traffic go by as Charlie once again drove her home.

“How come,” Charlie asked, “you didn’t know he’d suddenly decided to join a Goth band? You had your third coffee date with him last week.”

She’d upped the coffee dates from two to three after the recent disasters, figuring it gave her more time to ask questions and to get a real feel for the situation. She’d seen Dan Ulrich’s band interviewed on television when they performed at a benefit and been drawn to him at once. They played soft rock in an upscale club near the university. She’d Googled him, asked her friends who liked that music about him, done all her homework.

Then disaster. When she went to the club to meet him, the owner told her Dan had quit the band suddenly to join another. He gave her a strange look when he told her where she could find him. Charlie had big-time reservations when they discovered the new club was in the basement of a building.

“I just want to see for myself what’s going on,” she’d insisted.

Well, that was a disaster. There was Dan—now Dane—dressed all in black like the rest of the band, with heavy black Goth makeup, playing atonal music that gave her a headache.

Now, she slouched in her seat, trying to keep from feeling stupid.

“He never gave me a clue. Who the hell convinced him he had to get in touch with his inner self, anyway? I thought his outer one was just fine. Who goes all Goth at thirty-three years old, anyway?”

“Just a hint, kitten, but did you inhale the air in that club? I was afraid we’d get arrested it was so thick with smoke from all the weed people were using.”

“Yeah, I know.” She stomped a foot on the floorboard. “I can’t believe I was so stupid.”

He took her hand and squeezed it. “You aren’t the first to feel that way and won’t be the last. How about if we try the movie route again? It worked the other time. And this time, I get to pick.”

Chapter Three

Summer

July

“I can’t believe you got me to a country western bar,” Charlie grumped. “And on closing day of the rodeo, for shit’s sake. Everyone in the city must be here, not to mention all the people from the rodeo.”

Jill had to agree with him. The Longhorn Saloon was wall-to-wall people, the air filled with the sound of multiple voices, a high-energy country tune overlaid over it all. She grabbed Charlie’s hand and literally dragged him through the crowd, elbowing people aside.

Ever since she’d laid eyes on Bowie Grant’s picture, she’d had a bad case of the hots for him. The promo shot had him sitting on a bar stool, drumsticks held loosely in one hand, shirt open almost to his navel, a Stetson sitting casually on his head. His face had that Marlboro Man rugged look, and the rolled up sleeves of his shirt exposed ropes of muscle, no doubt developed playing the drums.

She’d had to promise Mitzi unlimited Starbucks for a month to wrangle an introduction to Bowie. Mitzi’s brother and Bowie knew each other in high school and had reconnected when Bowie showed up with his band several months ago.

“He’s got wanderlust,” Charlie pointed out when she told him about this month’s hot pick. “Look at his schedule for the past two years.” He pointed to what she’d pulled up on her iPad. “It’s Ray Bonda all over again.”

But Jill had stubbornly dug in her heels. “Mitzi says he told her brother he’s ready to settle down. Even got a nice little house picked out and everything.”

Charlie had just shaken his head and sighed. He’d already discovered that arguing with her got him nowhere, for which she was grateful.

Jill somehow found a tiny space at the bar to squeeze both of them into and ordered beer for the two of them. With her icy bottle in hand, she turned, leaned against the bar, and eyed the band up on the little stage. Yeah, he was just as sexy as she’d thought from the beginning. Most of her research had been done through Mitzi and her brother, of necessity. But Jill had as much background as she’d been able to dig up, listened to CDs of the band that Mitzi had, and somehow managed coffee twice, late in the afternoon, even with the rodeo going on and the band playing late at night.

Jill had been very blunt with Bowie, too, telling him if he was still itching to wander, he should let her know right then and there.

But he’d walked her to her car with a grin on his face. “Darlin’, if anyone could make me plant my boots in the ground, it’s you. Don’t worry about a thing.” He’d leaned in close to her, his mouth a hair’s breadth from hers “And Saturday night, after the bar closes, I’m going to show you that I really mean it.”

She’d ridden the edge of excitement and anticipation all week, and now the evening was here. She could hardly wait for two o’clock closing.

The band broke into a Blake Shelton ballad, and Charlie took her empty bottle from her, setting it on the bar. “Let’s dance.”

“Are you crazy?” She had to stand on tiptoe to shout in his ear. “There isn’t room on the floor for a gnat.”

“We’ll make room. And I’ll get you up front so you can wave howdy to Bowie.”

Before she could object further, he’d dragged her out into the mass of bodies, pulled her against his solid frame, and wrapped one arm around her. It felt strange to be dancing with Charlie, her buddy, her friend, and to suddenly be aware of his very masculine body. The scent of his aftershave, something woodsy, tickled her nostrils and teased her nerve endings. The muscles in the arm banded around her flexed against her back, the chest her breasts were pressed into was hard as a rock, and his—holy shit! Something else was hard as a rock, too.

How on earth could she be aware of Charlie’s cock? His scent? His entire body? He was asexual, in her eyes. He had to be. It had to be all the unsatisfied sexual needs her body was screaming about. Her boyfriend Bob—Battery Operated Boyfriend—hadn’t taken the edge off quite as much as she’d hoped.

Charlie’s mouth was right at her ear. “There he is, Jill. Look up and smile.”

The sight of Bowie was just what she needed to shake her out of an uncomfortable reverie. She looked at the stage, and sure enough, even in the middle of a complicated riff, he grinned at her and winked. She smiled back, and the tension in her body eased.

A few people moved off the dance floor, Charlie was able to put a little more space between them, and whatever she’d been thinking before had obviously been an aberration.

“I could use another beer,” she shouted.

“Okay.” He grinned down at her. “But pace yourself. You don’t want to get drunk like what’s-his-name the florist.”

“Eric.” She snorted. “What a loser. But I’ll be careful. I promise.”

And she was, pacing herself as they waited through the final set. Her body was already vibrating with sexual energy just from looking at Bowie. Time seemed to crawl by, even though she enjoyed the music. She checked her watch so many times Charlie threatened to take it away from her.

Even after last call and the final song, Jill had to wait while Bowie’s fans and friends took a moment to exchange a few words with him. She barely stopped herself from tapping her foot as impatience gripped her.

“Only a few minutes more,” Charlie reminded her, his voice lowered. With the thinning of the crowd he no longer had to shout to be heard.

“I know, I know.”

And then he was there, every sexually arousing, masculine inch of him. Bowie cupped her chin, lifting her face to him and pressed his mouth to hers. The kiss went on so long Jill almost forgot where they were. Finally, he lifted his head, the heat in his eyes so intense it scorched her skin.

“We need to take this somewhere else, darlin’.” His voice was husky, rough with need. “I’ve been thinking about getting you alone since the other afternoon.”

Every one of Jill’s pulse points throbbed with desire, her panties were soaked with her cream, and her breasts ached for his touch. Was she at last going to find sexual fulfillment along with everything else in the drummer of her dreams?

“I have my cell,” she told Charlie, as Bowie led her away. “But I’m good.”

“You know where to find me,” he said, scowling.

“Like I said, I’m good. It’s all good.”

And that was about all she could get out before Bowie literally dragged her out of the bar and into the rear parking lot. When they stopped in front of a large pickup with a fifth wheel camper attached, she looked at Bowie with curiosity.

“This is where we’re going?” A thread of unease tried to wiggle through her system.

“Best place to be,” he assured her. He opened the door, pulled out the two-step stairs, and ushered her inside.

Jill looked around, taking in all the details. It was far from luxurious, but it was neat as a pin. It even smelled good, a big surprise. As she let her eyes roam over the compact space Bowie’s hands rested on her shoulders and he turned her to face him.

“It’s not much,” he said, “but it’s all mine. At least for now.”

“I-I have a house, Bowie. I mean a condo. We could go there.” And have a lot more room.

“This suits me just fine. Besides, I’ve got other things on my mind besides architecture and housing.”

With that, his mouth came down on hers and she was lost. He tasted so good, like hot sin, his lips warm against hers, his tongue as smooth and hot as a satin flame as it insinuated into her mouth. He threaded his fingers through her hair, holding her head in place while he ate at her mouth. Fire raced through her body, heating her blood and sending it pumping through her veins. She slid her arms around him, feeling the muscular hardness of his body and inhaling his male fragrance. By the time he lifted his mouth from hers, her knees were so weak she wasn’t sure she could stand.

He brushed a few strands of hair back from her face and smiled. “I think we need to take this some place more comfortable.”

With that he lifted her in his arms, inched his way along the narrow passage to the space at the far end that turned out to be his bedroom.

“It’s not huge or luxurious, but it’s got a hell of a mattress,” he told her as he set her on her feet.

He certainly was deft with his hands, Jill thought, as he eased her tank top over her head and deftly opened the front clasp on her bra. No doubt from his dexterity as a drummer, a sign that she was on the right track in her quest.

“Gorgeous,” he whispered.

He lowered his head to take one turgid nipple into his mouth. He sucked gently and wrapped his tongue around the hard tip before closing his teeth over it in a soft little bite. Electricity crackled straight to her pussy, sending a fresh spate of cream into her thong. She squeezed her thighs together to contain the pulse thrumming through the walls of her cunt. She could almost feel his cock sliding into her, filling her, thrusting hard as he took her on a long, slow ride.

He shifted his mouth to her other breast, but Jill wanted to feel him skin to skin. Grabbing his T-shirt, she tugged it up, pulling on it until he broke contact with her to grab the collar of the shirt and yank it over his head. His lips were on hers again, his arms right around her, pressing her breasts to his hard naked chest. The crisp hairs tickled the already sensitive nipples, sending a hot punch right to the core of her sex.

Sliding his hands past her waist to the curve of her ass, he clutched the globes, digging his fingers into them to press her hard against the thick rod of his shaft so engorged it threatened to break free of the denim restraining it. He shifted her hips back and forth, rubbing against his fly, his groan echoing into the recesses of her mouth.

“Jesus, Jill.” He tore his mouth from hers. “Naked. I want naked. Right now.”

“Yes.” She could hardly get the word out.

Somehow, he managed to get them both out of the rest of their clothing while still sliding kisses over her neck, her breasts, and her tummy. Her muscles quivered when his hands brushed against the insides of her thighs as he helped her out of her shorts. She had to hang onto his shoulders to steady herself when he slipped his hand inside her thong, the backs of his fingers stroking her cunt while he removed the insubstantial lingerie.

“Almost there,” he rasped, placing her on the bed. He toed off his boots and yanked down jeans and boxer briefs together.

Her breath caught in her throat as the magnificence of his cock sprang free. Enflamed, the head a dark purple, it tempted her so strongly she reached out to wrap her fingers around it and lick the tiny bead of fluid from the slit. Spurred on by his groan of satisfaction, she leaned forward and closed her mouth over it, stretching her lips to accommodate its size.

“Enough,” he told her after a few minutes, pulling her head back. “Any more of that and the show will be all over.”

Pressing her back on the bed, he spread her legs, bent down and did his own sampling, his tongue scorching the flesh of her labia as he lapped and tasted her cream. When he slid one finger inside her, she immediately clamped down on it, silently begging for more. He gave it to her, another finger and yet another. The combination of tongue and fingers drove her wild. More, do more, she wanted to say, but she couldn’t get the words out. Too soon he withdrew and reached into the drawer of the built-in nightstand.