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And besides, that was a stellar performance, if I did say so myself.
“That’s how I like to wake up! That was fucking memorable! How long did you say you were staying?” he asked as he stroked my head, and I nestled in tighter.
“Glad you liked it… there’s more where that came from. I live here now, remember?”
“Oh, that’s right. And tonight, we’re working together.”
I couldn’t help the glow that I felt from that performance. It was like this was the first time I ever really enjoyed giving head. How was that even possible?
“We sure are,” I whispered, falling off him, then snuggling in next to him. I reached down and pulled the blanket up over us. “And I intend to remind you about this all night long.”
“Are you trying to get me fired?” he said, and I could hear the lightness in his voice. “How the hell am I supposed to work that bar thinking about my dick in your mouth? I woke up dreaming about fucking you. Between the two memories, I’m going to be totally fucked tonight.”
I thought of a delicious way for us to finish this… completely ignoring his workflow dilemma.
“There is one way I won’t bug you tonight.”
“And what’s that?” His fingers ran over my shoulder, giving me goose bumps. I was so hot for him, I could hardly rest in his arms.
“I wouldn’t bug you if you returned the favor.” I looked up at him, grinning.
“Oh, you’re a wicked little girl, aren’t you?”
“Scotty, this is just the beginning,” I told him with a chuckle.
I nodded and in the next moments, he had my legs wide open, exploring my soaking wet pussy with both his fingers and his tongue, devouring me like I was his Sunday brunch. I wrapped my legs over his shoulders, and it was all over.
Oh, man, I didn’t want this ride to ever end.
Micky 10
“Ain’t no big deal,” I told Colt. We were backstage inside the talent waiting room. A large room with no windows, a couple of long tables, several hardback chairs, a small steel-gray sofa, and one large dressing table with an oversized mirror. It wasn’t much of a room, but all the bands that had played here had signed the wall behind the sofa. Carrie Underwood’s name was even on that wall, along with Brooks and Dunn and the incredible Dolly Parton, who happened to be a personal friend of Tammy’s.
I was playing lead guitar tonight with the Jess Davis Band, a local group with a huge following. Jess and her band were poised to sign with a record label any minute now. They already had three labels that wanted their signature on the dotted line, but they couldn’t seem to make up their minds yet. Kinda like me… commitment issues. Plus, they needed a good manager in the worst way. The one they had went on to manage some lone wolf guy who went viral on YouTube, and now three of his songs were not only in the top five on the country charts, but they’d made it to every other music chart as well.
But none of that extra shit was my concern at the moment. My concern was how I’d gotten to a place where I might consider signing with them. I mean, Jess kept bugging me to join them when they start their tour next month, but if I did that, I’d be on the road for the next three months. What the fuck? Could I do that? Could I commit like that?
I never would’ve considered it even a few days ago, but now that I learned about having a kid, everything changed.
I had a responsibility, even though CindyLou didn’t seem to care one way or the other. Well, I cared, and I hadn’t even met my kid yet.
Too fucking scared. What if she hated me? I’d had enough rejection in my life, I certainly didn’t need it coming from my own kid.
“This is monumental,” Colt said. “Mickey Finn actually considering signing a contract with Jess Davis. Unheard of. Why not Hot Sugar?”
“They’re on the road way too much.”
“Don’t tell me this is all because of Cindy Lou. Or was it Daryl’s punch in the face that finally knocked some sense into you? Either way, this is a massive change in your character, and I’m impressed.”
Colt’s reaction was exactly why I didn’t know if I could do this. The whole idea of being responsible or dependable gave me hives. I didn’t know the first thing about what that even meant. Colt and Scotty had that shit down cold, but me… I came from a long line of bullshit family. That kind of thing was part of my DNA. I had no idea whether I could stick to actual responsibilities or not. Hell, I never even had a dog or even a goldfish because of my issue with commitments. It was difficult enough trying to take care of myself, let alone some other living entity.
“Yeah, well, don’t be. I haven’t signed anything yet. It’s just a thought right now, and I wanted your opinion, not your praise. This is a big move for me, and I need you to be my friend, not my pimp.”
We sat on a couple of black chairs in the otherwise empty room. The band would arrive in less than a half hour, wanting a decision from me. Fuck if I knew what the right move should be.
“I don’t think I’d make a good pimp. Way too much competition… but a friend. Now that’s something I know how to do. I’m your friend, your brother if it comes right down to it. Always have been and probably, unless you do something fucking stupid… which you’ve come close to doing many times before… I’ll always be here for you. You, me, and Scotty are brothers, you know that.”
“Then help me think this through.”
