Rhythm of the Road - Autumn Jones Lake Page 0,96

her skin.

“Close,” she whispers.

“Yeah?” I suck my thumb in my mouth for a second and bring it to her clit, rubbing in quick, firm circles.

“Yes, yes, yes.” She rides me faster and faster, digging her nails into my shoulders.

That sexy trembling quiver takes hold of her legs. Fuck, if that doesn’t trigger my own orgasm.

I clamp my hands over her hips, holding her down while I hammer up into her. The shaking in her legs increases. “Fuck,” I roar through my release.

Breathless and pulsing with pleasure, I fall back against the couch. She slumps over me, our sweaty bodies clinging together.

I pinch the material of her dress. “We’re going to ruin this.”

“Don’t care,” she mumbles against me.

I run my hands up and down her back. She jumps and wiggles her hips. My softening cock, still inside her, perks up. “Careful,” I warn. “You’re so fucking hot. If you give me a minute, I’ll bend you over the end of the couch.”

She laughs softly and sits up, carefully extracting herself from my lap.

I crack open one eye and stare at her. Carefully curled and pinned hair—disheveled. Makeup—obliterated. Dress wrinkled and twisted around her waist. Pink blotches stain her chest and neck. All from our frantic fuck. “You are wrecked, woman.”

She glances down and giggles, pushing her dress off the rest of the way. “Never felt better, though.”

“Never looked better, either.” I groan as I sit up. “Was that one of those light-socket orgasms you mentioned?”

She ducks her head, her tangled hair obscuring her face. “Definitely.”

I reach for her hand, tugging gently. “I could tell. Your legs shake. Your eyes roll back in your head.”

“You make me sound demonic.”

“It’s hot as hell.”

She giggles again and I tickle her side. “Give me a second to clean up and I’ll help you pack.”

“Okay.”

I’m finishing up in the bathroom when she joins me. Sadly, she’s covered—jeans that hug her curvy legs, a long-sleeve T-shirt, and boots. Ready to ride. She holds up a few bottles of liquid or lotion. “I’m going to wash this crap off my face before we go.”

“Probably a good idea.”

She gasps when she glances in the mirror. “Why didn’t you tell me I look like a freakshow?”

“You look fucking hot to me.” I pat her ass as I squeeze past her.

The second band must have taken the stage. Loud beats rumble overhead and the dull roar of the crowd pulses through the walls.

“You want your dress in the trunk?” I call out.

“Sure.”

Inside the trunk, I find her laundry bag and I stuff her clothes in there. I toss the shoes in too, hoping that’s where they go. “Anything else?”

She steps out of the bathroom and scans the couch, dressing table, and chair. “Nope. That’s all of it.”

I snap the trunk closed and hoist it into my arms.

“I can ask Trent to bring the hand cart down,” she offers.

I’m insulted she thinks I can’t carry her coffin-sized trunk of dresses and shoes. “The one with the flamingo stickers all over it? Pass.”

“My stickers are adorable.” She pouts as she slips the straps of her backpack on.

“You’re adorable.” Can’t take my damn eyes off her.

“Hey,” I wait until she lifts her gaze, “come here.”

She stops in front of me and peers up. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Kiss me.” Holding the trunk out of her way, I lean over and steal a quick kiss. “That’s better.”

“Was that okay?” Her nervous gaze darts to the shaggy olive green couch and back.

I laugh so hard the trunk slides from my grip and I catch it with my knee. “Anytime you feel like jumping on my cock, say the word.” I tilt my head toward the door. “Let’s go.”

Thank fuck I paid attention when Trent brought me down here. Shelby turns left instead of right. Clearly, she has no clue where she’s going.

“All these places look the same after a while,” she says when I question her.

“I know. But you should pay better attention. I can’t have you getting lost when you’re someplace unfamiliar.”

She squints at me.

Yeah, that sounded harsher than I meant. “Not trying to be bossy.”

“And yet, you’re so good at it.”

Shelby

Tonight, the wrongness of leaving the tour doesn’t chase me from the arena. My show kicked ass. I’m entitled to have a night with my boyfriend.

The hotel Rooster chose is the fanciest place I’ve ever been. The valet allows Rooster to leave his bike right in front and opens the door to the hotel for us. Several uniformed employees offer respectful low-toned greetings.

“Where’d you find this

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