Rock and Roll Country (Jesse's Girl #1) (7 page)

“Okay, just remember this is still a work in progress,” she says, balancing her acoustic guitar on her knee.

“Got it,” I reply, leaning back and making myself comfortable.

Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she strums her fingers over the strings. Shaking her head clear, she sits up straighter. “Alright, here we go.”

Her beautifully sad tune reaching deep into my heart I straighten as I wait for the words. Face broken by the weight of her lyrics, she croons about the mess that is her tattered heart. Listening to her beg for a savior, I succumb to her trance. Erratic heartbeat guiding my every move, I take the guitar from her hands and place it on the coffee table. Breathless, she locks her eyes on mine. Taking her hands in mine, I lose myself in her. Trembling fingers interlocking with mine, her mouth parts unconsciously. Welcoming the invitation, I cradle the back of her neck in my hand. Tongue moistening my lower lip, I inch closer. Her breath mixing with mine, I hold her there. Sighing, she closes her eyes. Memorizing the way, she looks in the moment, I hold her face in my hands and brush her lips with mine. Melting into me, she deepens our kiss. Pulling her from the couch arm to my lap, I wrap my hands in the silk strands of her hair and pour my desire into her.

The sound of the cab honking from outside interrupting us, I break away. “I can still leave if you want.”

Panting for breath, she stands and takes my hand. “Stay.”

Ignoring the angry sound of the horn, I allow her to lead me to the bedroom. Early light of dawn creeping through the curtains spread over her delicate skin, I watch as she removes her sweatshirt and sits on the end of the bed. “I know you’re used to girls who are open to everything,” she whispers, “but it’s been a long time since I’ve done this. Be gentle with me, okay?”

“I could never hurt you, Sophie,” I reply, running my hands through her hair and kissing her forehead. “Never. If we’re moving too fast, we’ll slow down. Just say the words.”

“Don’t you leave tomorrow? I mean today.”

I nod. “On to Little Rock.”

“Then I don’t want to stop. For once in my life, I don’t want to look back and ask what if. I just want to go with my gut regardless of the danger it’s leading me too.”

“Okay,” I whisper, inching down next to her and gently kissing her neck.

Tilting her head in response, she places an unsteady hand on my arm and slides it up my shoulder. Smiling at her, I pull my shirt off. Catching a glimpse of the black roses tattooed on my shoulder, she pauses. Suddenly exposed, I bring my hand to the spot where I immortalized Cressida. Lightly brushing her fingers over mine, Sophie moves it away.

Leaning forward, she places a gentle kiss over each rose then licks her way to my jawline. Exhaling, I turn my head and capture her mouth in mine. Shifting my weight over hers, I lean her back on the bed. Wrapping her arms around me, she pulls me down on top of her. Desperate to taste every inch of her, I kiss her lips and work my way to her neck and down her chest. Brushing my lips over the smooth skin of her navel, I pause to enjoy the sound her giggles.

“I’m ticklish,” she squeals.

Smirk thinning my lips, I shake my head against her and continue my journey south. Pausing to take a mental snapshot of the way she looks in the panties she must’ve thought would keep her safe from me, I hook my thumbs in the waistband and tug. Arching her back, she gives me the access I need to set her free. Spread wide before me, she props herself up on her elbows. Double checking that she’s okay, I glance up at her. Saying nothing, she nods. Hands tucked under her hips, I draw her to my lips. The swollen bud of her arousal greeting me with a pulse, she tosses her head back.

Thirsty for her, I tease and kiss her cleft. Grip tight on her hips, I caress the lips of her sweet pussy with my tongue and suckle her clit into my mouth. Body quivering, she gives herself to me. Stomach clenched with desire, I hold her steady as she finds her release. Unwilling to let go until she’s finished, I bury my face in her.

“Jesse,” she screams, fisting the sheets as her body goes lapse.

“Shh,” I whisper, standing and removing my jeans. “I’ve got you.”

Stroking my painfully swollen dick, I make my way to her. Sitting up, she takes me in hand and runs her fist the length of my shaft and back up again. Throbbing at her touch, I growl in relief. Licking her lips, she takes me into her mouth. Tongue swirling around my head, she pumps my dick with her hand. Palming her head, I rock in time with her suction. Dick jerking with the threat of release, I pull her away.

“I’m not ready to come yet,” I pant. “Not until I’ve had all of you.”

Setting her eyes on mine, she unclasps her bra and tosses it to the floor. Lying back on the bed she crooks her finger and beckons me. Anticipation of feeling her squeeze the life from my dick guiding my way, I hover over her. Dipping my tongue into her plush mouth, I align the tip of my dick with the opening of her swollen pussy. Placing my hand in hers and bringing her arm to rest above her head, I inch my way inside of her.

Moaning against my skin, she nuzzles her face between my neck and shoulder. Surrounded by her lush warmth, I steady my pace. Filling her, I grab her other hand and straighten my arms for leverage. Not taking my eyes off her, I rock in and out. Nipples peaked, she arches toward me. Pleased with her surrender, I deepen my stride. Gasping at the feel of my head against her g-spot, she throws her head back. Taking my cues from her, I pull out and pause before crashing into her again.

“Fuck,” she whines, biting her lip.

Shaking legs wrapped around me, she thrashes her head from side to side. Dick twitching on the brink of explosion, I quicken my pace. Her pussy devouring me, I dive into her. Nails digging into the backs of my hands, she lurches against me. Mind warped by the power she holds, I thrust again.

“I’m coming,” she screams, finally giving in.

Following close behind, I grab her hips and pump as hard as I can. Dick aching from the power of my expulsion, I stay with her as long as I can. World spinning as though it’s all been a dream, she pulls me down on top of her. “I’ll understand if you don’t do that kind of thing, but can you just hold me for a little while?”

Stroking my hand over her hair, I kiss her. “Of course.”

Rolling to my side, I pull back the duvet and cradle her naked back to my chest. Arms securely wrapped around her I kiss her hair, her cheek, and any other part of her I can reach. Pulling the blankets over us, she draws herself closer.

“Thank you, Jesse,” she sighs.

“I’m the one who should be thanking you,” I reply, tucking her hair behind her ear. “You’re perfect, Sophie. Every part of you.”

“Mmm hmm,” she answers sleepily.

Unable to keep the smile from spreading across my face, I kiss her ear and whisper, “Sleep sweetly, Angel. I’ll be here when you wake.”

As the sun rises higher in the sky, I listen to the sounds of her breathing. Just as I had suspected, once with Sophie will never be enough. Walking away from her now is going to be my downfall.

Feeling more refreshed than I have in years, I stretch and open my eyes. Behind me, Jesse stirs slightly. Thoughts of our early morning together racing through my head, I still.
What happens now?
I’m not the kind of girl who’ll ever be okay with just being another notch in someone’s bedpost, yet that’s exactly what this is. Jesse Lee will board his tour bus in a few hours and forget all about that
one time in Memphis
. Stomach swirling with nerves, I carefully lift his arm and slide from his grasp. “Where are you running to?” He questions, voice hoarse with sleep.

“Bathroom,” I reply, not looking back at him.

Refusing to look at myself in the mirror, I handle my business and wash my hands. Doing what I can only assume he does best in moments like this, I hear Jesse gathering his things to leave. Sitting on the edge of the tub, I cradle my head in my hands.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
My days of reckless abandon are supposed to be behind me. What am I doing? How is jumping in bed with some fly by night guitar player doing anything to help my son?

“You okay in there, Angel?” Jesse asks, knocking.

Dreading facing my shame, I finally risk a look in the mirror. “Fine,” I lie, grabbing my brush from the counter and trying to do something with my tangled mane. “Be out in a minute.”

“Okay,” he responds, cheerfully. “I was going to make some tea, but I didn’t know how you take yours.”

Rolling my eyes, I reply, “With ice and sugar. There’s a pitcher in the fridge. If it’s a caffeine jolt you need, I’d suggest coffee. Filters are in the cabinet by the stove.”

“Alright then. Coffee it is,” he states.

Pulling my hair into a messy bun, I wash my face and brush my teeth. Dressing in my robe, which still rests on the bathroom floor, I emerge as confident as I can all things considered. Following the smell of brewing coffee, I find Jesse at the kitchen counter whisking a bowl of what appears to be eggs.

“I’m not a chef,” he explains, “but my time in the States has taught me a thing or two about scrambling an egg.”

“Is that so?” I ask, taking a seat at the table and admiring his efforts.

“I do realize it’s just after eleven, but I thought we should at least have a meal before I leave.” He turns to me, sincere eyes studying mine. “Unless, of course, you’d rather I go.”

Flooded with relief, I pull my legs up into the chair. “Brunch sounds perfect.”

“I’m glad you think so.” He glances at the coffee pot and begins searching my cabinets.

“Top Right, bottom shelf,” I instruct.

“Right,” he says, fetching the
World’s Greatest Mom
mug Marcus’ grandparents helped him pick out for Mother’s Day last year. “Do you take it black?”

“Creamer is in the fridge. I like it about two-parts coffee, one-part cream, and I like two tablespoons of sugar.” 

Wrinkling his forehead, he stares at me. “You don’t find that sickly sweet?”

“Jesse, is this your first trip to the MidSouth? We like our beverages sweet and our meats savory. Got it?” 

“Savory meats.” He winks. “That one I think I can provide.”

Cheeks flushing, I look down at the table. Jesse brings my coffee, and places it in front of me. Kissing the top of my head, he returns to his work with the eggs. Awestruck, I watch the tight muscles in his back flex in time with his movements. My vantage point gives me a better glimpse of his tattoo, which starts at his shoulder with a bouquet of roses detailed in heavy black ink, and flows down his back in a pattern which includes a cross, ballet shoes, and what appears to be a ring resembling that of a woman’s wedding band with the name Cressida written across it’s circumference.

Nauseated, I turn my eyes away. The symbology is hard to ignore. Jesse Lee is married and I just became another one of his whores. I can almost picture the poor woman who thought she was lucky enough to marry him. She’s probably sitting at home, perhaps even bouncing a baby on her knee, waiting for the days to turn into minutes until she can see her husband once more.

Disgusted with myself, I jump to my feet. “On second thought, I think you should go.”