Nashville Boxed Set #1-3 Page 4

  He helped me remove my shoes, then walked me backwards to the bathroom, kissing me all the while. When I stumbled, he caught me and pressed against me, skin to skin. His erection pressed into my belly, hot and hard and ready to go.

  He let me go to open the glass shower door and started the water.

  “Don’t you think you should undo me first?”

  He pulled out the key and I actually felt a tiny stab of disappointment that my fantasy was coming to an end. But it was too late to take it back and ask him to keep me his prisoner a little longer.

  I didn’t have to worry. He unlocked my hands, then brought them both to the front and re-cuffed me. “Not a chance.” He set the key on the bathroom counter then returned to the shower to test the temperature.

  “I hope you like it hot.”

  I nodded and licked my lips.

  “Get in.”

  I stepped into the glass shower cube. The hot water warmed my skin and drenched my hair. Before I knew what he had in mind, Dex shed his underwear and stepped into the shower behind me. He lifted me easily with one arm around my waist and looped the chain of my handcuffs around pipe supporting to the showerhead.

  My breasts pressed against the cool glass and the shower spray hit the back of my head and rolled down my back in hot rivulets.

  “Ok?” he asked in my ear.

  Oh, God. I was ready to blow right then just from the sensation of heat on my back and cold on my front and being completely at the mercy of Dex Wilder.

  I nodded. “Yeah, I’m good.”

  “I knew you would be,” he said, then nipped my ear and ran his hands down my sides to my hips. He pressed against me, his skin wet and slick now, too. He rubbed his cock in the crevice of my ass, so close, teasing. I arched back, wanting him inside me right then. I wanted him to complete this totally crazy fantasy of mine. But he just laughed softly and moved away. “Not yet, baby. There’s a lot of hot water and I plan to use it all.”

  I heard the pop of a bottle top and his hands were back on me after a moment, hot and wet and slick with soap that smelled like almonds and vanilla.

  He pushed my hair to one side and massaged my neck and shoulders in hard, deep circles that made the rest of my bones melt away.

  “That’s right, baby, just relax for me.” He smoothed his hands lower over the small of my back and my sides, then back up my front, catching my aching breasts in his hands on the way.

  He squeezed gently, pinching the nipples, then rubbing in circles. His hands were hot and wet and glided over my wet skin like satin.

  He leaned in and kissed the side of my neck, his hard chest warming my back. His erection pressed against my ass and I arched backwards, wanting to feel him, wishing I could get a good look at him.

  But he wouldn’t allow it. Dex nibbled my neck and earlobe and it was hard to tell where his tongue ended and the hot water began.

  His hands moved lower over my abdomen and he hugged me to him, moving his hips slightly as if we were dancing under the shower spray. He nudged my belly ring. “Sexy. You’re so sexy. You don’t know how often I’ve thought of you. How many times I’ve thought of my golden goddess and her sweet body around mine.”

  I wasn’t sure I believed that, given how many photos of him with his arm slung around assorted blondes I’d seen in the tabloids, but hey, it was a fantasy. Why ruin it with cold hard facts when the only fact I cared about was hard and hot and pressing into my backside?

  When his hands brushed the curls at the apex of my thighs, I bit my lips against the jolt of pure sensation that licked my body.

  He glided over my sex to the inside of my thigh, then moved his hands back up again, teasing me until I wanted to shout with frustration. I wanted his hands on me and some part of him in me. But I was fully restrained and unable to do anything about it.

  He kissed the side of my neck, nipping lightly as his fingers at last delved inside me, right where I wanted them.

  “You’re so hot and wet for me.”

  “I know,” I breathed. I closed my eyes, letting pure sensation, not rational thought, rule my body for once.

  Dex slipped one long finger inside me and I felt my body clench around him. I squirmed on my truss but couldn’t move. I was totally at his mercy now.

  “Please, Dex.”

  “Please what, baby?” He brought one hand up to cup my sensitized nipple while he used his fingers on the other hand to thrust slowly in and out of my body.

  He pinched my nipple and I cried out, wanting more.

  “How about this?” He added another finger to his thrusts and the delicious stretching sensation caused a new round of shudders to quake through my body.

  “Yeah. Like that.”

  “You like that I’m in control.”

  “Yes.”

  His hand moved up my chest to my throat. He urged my head backwards until it rested against his shoulder and he continued his ministrations below.

  I was so turned on I could barely stand up. But I couldn’t sink down either, with my hands stretched over my head.

  He caressed my throat, and I felt my pulse beat against his fingers.

  The warm spray hit me in the face, giving me a sense of total immersion in Dex. My eyes were closed which only made the sensations more intense.

  “Are you ready for me?”

  “God, yes.”

  “Good. Because I’m going to pop right now just watching your gorgeous body all hot and wet for me.”

  He removed his fingers and grasped my hip with one hand as he guided his cock to my wet opening with the other.

  I shifted my pelvis to give him better access, and he slid all the way home. My breath hitched when he was buried deep inside, his pelvis firmly snugged against my ass.

  Dex wrapped his arms around my torso, hugging me to him so that there was no space between our bodies.

  My arms ached with the tension of being chained above my head but I welcomed the discomfort as just another sensation to add to the heady mix of heat and pressure and friction Dex had woven around us.

  Then he began to move, slowly at first, sliding out to the tip, then slamming home again in a long, clean slide.

  In and out, with my breathy sighs, he loved my body.

  “God. Just like I remember,” he whispered in my ear. His voice was raspy and low, a whisper all but lost in the drenching downpour of the shower.

  I thrust backwards, wanting him to fuck me in earnest now. No more teasing, no more words. Just sex. Raw, dirty sex.

  He got the picture.

  Dex grabbed my hips and thrust harder until his wet flesh slapped against my backside. He grunted with each deep stroke and I was pretty sure I did, too. I felt lightheaded from the heat of the water and the heat building inside me.

  Pressure coiled tighter and tighter until it burst suddenly. Tendrils of pleasure spiraled through my limbs, through my belly, through my breasts, through my sex and took my breath away.

  “Baby,” Dex said as he stiffened and pulled out of me. I felt his hot ejaculate on my back, hotter than the shower.

  I groaned. He felt so good. Every place he touched me was on fire for him.

  He hugged me to him, squeezing me tight for a minute before chuckling in my ear.

  “Yeah, I remember that, too.”

  I smiled. “Me, too.”

  “Your arms must be getting awfully tired by now.”

  “A little,” I fibbed. They were really tired and sore. But happy, just like me.

  He lifted me up enough to drag the chain between the cuffs off the shower head and I was finally able to put my arms down. I winced.

  “There you go, babe. You all right?”

  I turned to face him and smiled up at him. I’m great.”

  “Yeah. You are.” He leaned in and gave me a quick peck on the mouth. “Here. Let me get your back.”

  Dex soaped up his hands and washed my back. Then his hands slid down to my backside, then between my legs. I wasn’t complaining.
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  Dex turned me and soaped my front.

  He looked down at me, the glint in his eye telling me he wasn’t done with me just yet. I wasn’t complaining about that, either.

  He cleaned me carefully, washing between my legs, then got down on his knees to do my legs and even my feet. He gave me toes a quick kiss and stood up.

  “Water’s getting cold.”

  I hadn’t even noticed that the temperature had definitely cooled. My temperature was rising again.

  Dex reached behind me to turn off the shower then shook his hair until it stood out in a spiky mess.

  He opened the shower door and stepped out, then grabbed my arm to help me out, too.

  “Let me dry you off.” He rubbed me all over with the towel, the rough texture abrading my skin in all the right places.

  I shivered in the cool of the dressing room, my nipples standing straight out. Goose flesh covered my skin.

  “If I take these off, do you promise not to run away before I get your number this time? And maybe even your name?”

  I nodded. “I promise.”

  He used the key to twist open the lock and removed the handcuffs.

  I rubbed my wrists. They were a little red.

  Dex grabbed them and inspected them, frowning. “I’m sorry babe,” he said pressing s kiss to each. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “It was definitely worth it,” I said, teeth chattering.

  He smiled down at me, his lashes dark and spiky from the water.

  “Yeah.” Dex grabbed a fluffy white robe and wrapped it around me. I pushed my arms in and snuggled into its warmth. “I’m glad you came tonight. Even if you didn’t mean to.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Come here. Sit down. Tell me what you’ve been up to since your Greek goddess days.”

  Dex pulled on a pair of boxers and rubbed his hair with a towel. He was the same cowboy, only not. There was a veneer of sophistication clinging to him now that said he had been places and seen things he hadn’t when I’d last met him. I kind of missed the redneck in him.

  “Well,” I said. “The usual. Wreaking havoc on Mount Olympus. Serving beer to a bunch of no-account cowboys and singing for my supper.”

  He sat down on the couch and patted the spot next to him.

  God, he was handsome. He had slung the towel around his neck, but aside from the boxers, he was still nude. His hair was pitch black when it was wet and the shadow of a beard was just starting to show.

  And he was looking at me.

  “Still singing at the Wagon Wheel?”

  “I can’t believe you remembered that.”

  He looked at me seriously then. “I remember everything about that night.”

  The intensity with which he spoke made me uncomfortable. I didn’t know whether to believe him or whether it was a line. I decided it was a line. After all, I’d seen photographic proof that he had women in every city. He probably whispered sweet nothings to each of them, too. Made them all feel like they were the only women in the world.

  “Yeah, right.”

  He cocked his head. “What? You don’t believe me?”

  I shook my head and smiled at him. “Come on. You’re Dex Wilder. You have a different blonde on your arm every time I see your picture. TMZ calls her Bimbo of the Week. There’s a gallery.”

  “Don’t believe everything you read.” Dex got up and opened the mini fridge in the corner. He pulled out two Diet Cokes and handed me one.

  “Thanks,” I said, suddenly uncomfortable. I felt like I had offended him. But I would be a fool to believe he’d been pining away for me all this time.

  Dex sat back down, but I could tell my words were still bothering him. We drank our Cokes in silence.

  “You think I really don’t remember?” he said at last, breaking the tension between us.

  “I’m sure you remember that night, but it could have been any woman you remember sharing it with.”

  “You’re wrong. But it sure would be nice to have a name to put with it.”

  I smiled. “It’s Sydney. Sydney Stratton.”

  He smiled. “Sydney. Yeah.”

  The knock at his dressing room door startled us both.

  “Dex? Don’t forget the meet and greet in 15 minutes.”

  “Shit,” he said under his breath. “My manager.”

  “Got it, Bob,” He said louder and the knocker went away.

  He stood up and went to the rack of clothing against the wall.

  “I hate this stuff,” he said, pulling out a black shirt and black pair of jeans.

  “What? The meet-and-greets?”

  “All that stuff. I just want to sing.”

  I shifted on the couch. “Some of us dream about being so popular that people want to meet us and greet us.”

  “I know. And I am grateful for everything that’s happened these past couple of years. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t.” He pulled on the shirt and buttoned it while still facing me.

  He tugged his jeans on then sat down on a footstool to put on his socks and boots.

  I watched him get ready in silence, enjoying the pure masculinity of his movements. It really wasn’t fair that a man could pull on a couple pieces of clothing, run his hands through his hair and look sexy as hell. It would take a woman a good hour or more to be ready to face the world. But Dex was so handsome, he could be wearing a pair of ratty sweatpants and make every woman within a 50 mile radius hot. And set them trying to figure out how to get inside those sweats.

  “This won’t take long,” he said picking up his hat off the floor. He brushed off the lint and settled it low on his head and cocked just slightly to the side, in his trademark fashion. “Will you wait for me, Sydney? Maybe we can grab something to eat. If you don’t have other plans.”

  Warmth spread through me. Dex Wilder wanted to spend time with me. Dinner. Hell, that was practically a date. A date with a star.

  “I’ll be here.”

  Dex winked at me and in an instant a familiar expression, the one I’d see on posters and in countless magazines, masked his features that only a moment before had shown irritation at the responsibilities being a star brought.

  “Be right back, babe.”

  Dex opened the door to his dressing room and all hell broke loose. Camera flashes, shouts and a crowd of fans and press mobbed him. He pushed forward through the crowd and I heard his security people yelling for everyone to back off and let Dex through. That he’d be happy to sign autographs as soon as he was done with the meet and greet.

  I settled back into the cushions and found the remote.

  I switched on the TV to the local news. I felt languid and content after the hard orgasm in the shower, but I was excited about spending more time with Dex, too. The spark that had blazed between us two years ago was still there. And it didn’t feel completely sexual. I felt as though we connected on many levels.

  The weather came on: Hot. Then sports: Win. Then I heard the perky little newscaster say something that brought me to the edge of the couch cushion.

  “And Dex Wilder was in town tonight. But it seems he got a little more than he bargained for when he returned to his dressing room after the sold-out charity appearance.”

  I watched in horror as a jiggly cell-phone video showed me handcuffed and being manhandled by security inside Dex’s dressing room. It was fuzzy and all I could see was me in handcuffs, lots of skin showing and then the dressing room door closing with me inside.

  “You may remember the incident last fall involving an overzealous fan who threatened Wilder at a Tulsa, Oklahoma concert. There is no word tonight if the woman taken into custody was armed. A representative for Wilder’s security team said only that the situation was well in hand. And now, new information on the price hike for fishing licenses.”

  I sat staring at the television in total shock. I was most definitely not armed. And not a groupie. Or was I? I mean twice now I had hooked up with Dex for a little kinky sex. He hadn’t even k
nown my name until about five minutes ago. I’d sneaked into his dressing room. Holy shit. Maybe I was a groupie.

  I grabbed my wrinkled dress off the floor and pulled it on. I slipped on my shoes and combed my fingers through my wet hair.

  If it hadn’t been me handcuffed to Dex’s shower, it would have been someone else. And I wasn’t going to stick around long enough for all the paparazzi to get a good shot of me with Dex. I was not going to be TMZ’s Bimbo of the Week.

  I pressed my ear to the door. It appeared to be quiet outside, the mob having probably followed Dex to his meet-and-greet.

  Good. That meant a clean getaway.

  I opened the door and, after making sure the coast was clear, disappeared into the shadowy hallway, taking only the memory of a perfect fantasy with me.

  Chapter Three

  Morning is not a good time of day for anybody working the club scene or the catering scene, for that matter. These are nocturnal jobs, and nine-to-fivers can’t possibly understand that yes, I’m still sleeping at 11 am because I didn’t make it home from work until three or four in the morning, not because I’m lazy or ‘sleeping in’ or taking it easy.

  Try telling this to my mother, who calls me at 8 am every Tuesday, expecting me to me up and dressed, apartment spotless, laundry done, errands run and dinner planned by that hour. Sometimes I think she found some time portal in the 50’s and just transported here, because on her worst days she definitely puts June Cleaver to shame. Me? Not so much.

  So when the phone rang at 8 a.m. on the dot, I groaned and struggled to get myself upright. I knew if I didn’t answer she’d be filing another missing persons report with Metro PD.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  “You sound awful. Are you sick?”

  I cleared my throat and took a swig of tepid water from the glass on my nightstand. “No, Mom. We had a gig last night. My voice is a little raw.”

  “Oh, that’s nice. Her tone was just this side of condescending. But she was trying. “Did you have a good time?”

  I rolled my eyes. Even after all this time, she didn’t get it. “Yeah, it was great. The owner wants us to come back next week.”

  “That’s wonderful! How much does that pay?”