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I was a lost cause from the beginning.
Minty moved to stand in front of the microphone stand, her legs pressed together tightly. She wrapped both hands around the mic and, at her nod, Barrett strummed the sexy opening notes of Meg Myers HTIS. Energy rolled off her in waves. Her back expanded with her inhale, and she leaned into the mic. My blood sang as her husky voice confessed her sexy secret to the crowd, and they leaned in as one to hear it.
She dropped her head back then rolled it around as she began to move her shoulders and hips in a sensually mesmerizing dance before freezing, stepping wide, and telling them exactly what she’d been hiding.
Junie and the girls hooted and hollered at the back and wolf whistles pierced the air.
Minty bounced her knee through the chorus and sent me a saucy wink over her shoulder.
I couldn’t even pretend to play and rested my guitar on its stand. There was no fighting my enjoyment as Minty worked the stage.
Through the second verse, she continued her confessions, her arms rising above her head, keeping time with those round hips my hands itched to pull against mine.
Then she lifted the mic from its stand and slithered toward me. Stopping half in front of me, she dropped her hand to the front of my thigh and dragged it up over my hip and my chest before trailing it lightly over my shoulders as she circled around behind me.
I watched her as far as I could then snapped my head around to the other side in time for her to step in front of me, one boot clad foot between my legs as she faced the crowd and sang the chorus.
With a sly smile she undulated against me, dropping her juicy ass to her heels before bending forward and pushing herself up in a move reminiscent of the strippers I remembered from my university days.
As if I could take any more, she leaned against my side and drew her leg up my thigh as she screamed out her confession once more before ripping her thigh from my eager grasp and returning her mic to the stand for the closing round of choruses.
As the bar erupted, she ducked her chin, nodded her thanks, then turned and threw herself at me with a triumphant laugh.
I laughed out loud as I swung her up in my arms and carried her off the back of the stage.
Minty
Adrenalin throbbed, and I shook with the need to expend it.
With my arms looped around his neck, Lucky dipped and turned sideways to bring us backstage.
“Did you like that?” I asked, though I knew the answer.
“Oh, you know I liked it,” he answered roughly as he stared intently at my mouth, then dropped my legs and ushered me quickly into the bathroom reserved for performers and quickly shut the door.
It didn’t even occur to me to protest.
I moved to drop to my knees, wanting him in my mouth, but he hauled me up and pressed me back against the door with his palm on my chest.
His eyes holding mine, he worked the button and zipper of my pants and slid his fingers into my panties, sliding his other hand to rest lightly around my throat. He groaned as those calloused tips encountered my slick slit.
My head fell back against the door as he found and rolled the spot God granted women strictly for their pleasure.
“Lucky,” I breathed.
“Come on, baby,” he urged, his body tense, face tight. “Come on my fingers.”
Halfway there before he even had my pants open, it didn’t take more than a minute for those divine shudders to wrack my frame, leaving me limp and languid against the door, watching him through half-closed lids.
He braced his feet on either side of my legs and held my eyes as he set my pants to rights then yanked my head back and covered my mouth in a brief, bruising kiss.
I reached for his pants, but he shook his head. “I’ll get mine, don’t you worry,” he promised darkly. “Now you’ve gotta take the walk of shame back across the stage and go sit with your girls while I finish the set.”
I gasped, fully alert now. “I am not walking across that stage!”
“Sure, you are,” he countered. “Everyone out there is going to know you’re mine, and I will never laugh at or downplay your jealousy again.”
He opened the door and swatted my ass, his dimples reappearing. “Get moving. The longer it takes, the worse it looks.”
