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I squeeze his balls, tugging gently as I hum, gazing up at him with the innocent look that I know he loves. He groans, his orgasm rocketing through him, and he shoots jet after jet of sweet warmth down my throat and I swallow, satisfaction buzzing in my head as I take every drop like the good girl I am.
He pulls back, yanking me up from the floor to kiss me fiercely. “Damn, Elise. Now I’m gonna be thinking about burying my cock in your pussy the whole damn show.”
I wink, dabbing at the corners of my mouth like a lady. As if I missed a single drop. “It’ll probably be your fastest show ever. Don’t forget to blow kisses to the crowd.”
Keith lifts his hand to his mouth, inhaling deeply and then licking a taste of my honey from his fingertip. “Mmm, I have a feeling this is gonna be a great show.”
He tucks his shirt back in, helping me adjust my skirt so we both look more or less put together. Hopefully, no one will be able to tell we just fucked backstage. Then again, this is music . . . this might not be out of the ordinary.
We speed-walk through the dark curtained hallways and I remember the first concert I went to where Keith fingered me in a jealous fit backstage. It all seems like a dream, so perfectly impossible but somehow true and real.
“Okay, you ready?” Jim asks when Keith joins them. “Pain don’t hurt!”
“Glory never dies!” Shane adds.
“And chicks dig scars!” the others yell, making me laugh.
“Kick some ass!” they all finish, heading out on stage to the cheering crowd. I’m just as loud, but this time, though, I’m just off stage. Which in some ways is better. I can see my man more easily.
Keith grabs the microphone, looking out on the crowd. “Helloooo, Boise! Are you ready to sing along with an old hometown boy?”
He leans an ear out, listening to them scream wildly. “That’s what I thought!”
I watch as he brings his fingers to his mouth, blowing a big kiss to the crowd before looking over at me and winking. I almost melt, and I’m glad nobody can see me swoon.
God, this man is so damn sexy and amazing. And most importantly, he’s mine.
I watch transfixed as he sings song after song, working the stage like a master. It’s a bigger setup than the small shows I’ve seen at home, and it’s exciting to watch him use the space, flirting with the audience as they watch him with rapt attention, singing every word back to him.
Knowing the big closing is coming soon, I’m surprised when I hear the music play on with a soft beat as Keith takes off his guitar, handing it to a stagehand.
He approaches the mic and pulls off his hat, wiping his forehead. “Hey, Boise. You mind I do something a little different tonight?”
Yelling back their agreement, he continues. “You see this yellow scarf tied up on my microphone?”
His fingers run along the length of yellow fluff tied to the top of the stand and hanging down to almost brush the stage. I blush, knowing why it’s there but not noticing it before.
“Well, it was made for me by someone really special to me. She joked one night that I could tie it to my mic like Steven Tyler, a little rock star style for this country boy. In fact, she dared me that I wouldn’t do it. And you know what I had to do, right?”
I can hear a mutiny of voices yelling back, mostly seeming to agree that Keith had to do it. I laugh, thinking of Keith saying, “hold my beer,” but I still get warm and fuzzy inside because Keith did put the scarf I’d knitted for him on his mic and promised he’d do it every show for the whole tour.
“That’s right. I put the damn scarf on the mic, because contrary to some folks’ opinions, I’m not a stupid man. And when your woman tells you to do something, you’d best do it. When she dares you to, well then, you damn sure better do it!”
There are some hoots and hollers, and I grin. That’s right . . . his woman. And he makes it sound like I’m in charge. If they only knew.
“So the woman who made this scarf for me is here tonight. You think I could bring her out and introduce you to her?”
My jaw drops as Keith looks over at me, waving me onstage. I shake my head no, honestly terrified. I’m not shy, but shit, this is on another level. There are thousands of people out there. No fucking way. I’m the one behind the camera and keyboard, writing the stories.
Keith grins, talking to the crowd again. “Oh, looks like she’s shy, but I promise she isn’t. She just needs a little incentive. Hey, Elise?”
