M Leighton - Wild Child

I’m not surprised when he grabs his beer and walks toward me. He’s half way across the bar when he starts to slow down. It seems that he’s just now noticing what I’m wearing.

And I’d say he likes it very much.

I suck in my stomach and hold out my arms before settling my hands on my hips to let him look. His eyes roam me from my own black cowboy hat, down to my fringed, suede bra, to my bare stomach and on to my chaps, completely open all the way to my boots, but for the frilly little panties I’m wearing underneath.

His mouth drops open the tiniest bit and I feel my heart speed up. I have no doubt if we were alone, or even in a different venue, Rusty would take me by the hand, lead me to the first semi-private place he could find and bury his body in mine until we both lost the ability to think straight.

It’s what we do. It’s how we affect each other.

And it’s wonderful.

He resumes his walk to me. Cami passes in front of him and he watches her go, shaking his head at her outfit. She’s wearing a black leather dominatrix ensemble and Trick is wearing the matching submissive one. I watch her cross to Trick and I laugh out loud when he turns and sees her. His jaw goes slack and I’d be willing to bet he got a hard-on instantly. I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if they use these costumes again. In private.

“So, what's the next surprise in Jenna’s World of Wedding Wonders?”

“You mean the costumes weren’t enough?” I ask. “Don’t you like mine?” I look up at him from beneath my lashes, purposely coy as I tease the fringe that hangs from my bra.

“I’d be happy to show you what I think of your costume. Later.”

“You would?”

“Mmm,” he purrs, leaning in to kiss my neck. Chills spread down my arms.

“Well, since I’m off limits, maybe the other things I’ve got lined up will take your mind off me. And all the things I’d like for you to do to me in this outfit.” I lean in to Rusty, my lips less than an inch from his and I whisper, “And out of it.”

“You’re evil. Did you know that? You’ll probably go to hell for doing this to me.”

I run my fingers up his bare chest, to his chin then I trace his bottom lip with my bright red fingernail. “Come burn with me.”

“You lead the way,” he growls hoarsely, like the heat between us has singed his vocal cords.

I plant my hand on his chest and push. I give him my sauciest grin. “Maybe later,” I say, taking a step back. “Or maybe not.”

Rusty’s breath hisses through his gritted teeth and I laugh outright. Who ever thought this would be so much fun? Torture, for sure. But fun anyway.

I never thought it could be so hard to keep my hands off someone. Of course, I’ve never really tried. All I can say is that, when I finally get between those long legs of Jenna’s, there’s gonna be an explosion of epic proportions.

And it won’t just be me doing the exploding.

As I watch Jenna, I can see invitation in the way she moves. She might as well be shifting against me, close enough for me to touch her. The things she does with her hips and her hands, the way she bends over with that delicious ass of hers tipped perfectly in my direction—all of it is for me, like she can feel my eyes on her. Like she wants to feel my hands on her.

I know this because she keeps looking back, making sure I’m watching. Teasing me. I’d be willing to bet those ruffled little panties she’s wearing now include a wet spot. We’re engaged in the ultimate game of cat and mouse, and it’s keeping us both turned on.

I watch her as she backs toward the curtain that’s stretched across the back half of the room. I know there’s a stage back there, but there has to be something else. It’s a big space she’s got concealed!

“Seems like we’re missing something in here, doesn’t it?” Jenna asks, raising her voice so the rest of the party can hear her.

Shouts go up all around and she smiles, taking a handful of curtain and dragging it along the makeshift line that’s stretched across the room. Bit by bit, the edge of a thick black and red mattress is revealed. That’s all I can see because it’s so dark behind the curtain.

With a flourish, Jenna flings back the curtain. A single spot light flips on, shining down on a dull, black mechanical bull. The crowd goes nuts.

All I can think about is watching Jenna ride that thing.

“Holy shit, it’s gonna be a long night,” I mutter to myself.

Jenna is grinning from ear to ear. “All right, now that I’ve got your attention, who’s gonna be the first to ride the bull? We gotta get some use out of this thing before the operator gets bored and goes home,” she says, gesturing toward the clearly unenthusiastic plaid-clad old man who’s sitting on a stool in the corner, leaning over a small console. He probably came with the mechanical bull. I think he might be asleep under the wide brim of his enormous hat. I can’t be sure. “Come on, ya bunch of pansies! Who’s gonna pony up and ride it first?”

There’s lots of shouting and whistling and general loud-mouthing, but no one steps forward. I can see several people trying to get Trick to go first, but he’s resisting, content to sit by his hot fiancée.

I hear Jenna’s name above the fray, called once, twice then multiple times. In a few seconds, everyone is chanting for her to give that bull a ride.

With an exasperated shake of her head, she turns toward the bull. “Fine. I’ll show you how it’s done. I just hate to make the rest of you look bad,” she teases with a cocky grin.

The old man, awake and alert after all, slides off his stool and hobbles over to Jenna to lend her a hand as she climbs up onto the bull. When she’s seated on its wide, leather back, I see her frown. “Something else is missing,” she muses loudly, pausing for a second before she shouts, “Music!”

The lights over the stage come on in a burst of color. Standing with their instruments, and one member sitting behind his drums, are the members of Saltwater Creek, the band I used to play in. I glance over at Trick. He’s howling happily, his arms raised into the air. He used to play with us, too. He looks at me and smiles. I know this probably makes his night that much better. I return his smile then look back to the stage.

“Something’s still missing,” Jenna yells. “Oh, I know what it is. We’re gonna need more bass.”

Heads start turning toward me and I finally look up at Jenna where she’s sitting atop the bull. She’s looking right at me, grinning. She tips her head toward the stage and I look back in that direction. Everyone in the band is watching me, smiling, and Sam, the bass guitar player, is taking the strap of his guitar off his shoulder. He walks to the front of the stage and holds it out to me.

Quitting the band was a tough decision, but it was the right one. Business at the garage started picking up and it was a matter of growing up and facing my responsibilities, laying the groundwork for my future, or playing with the boys.

Adulthood won out.

But getting a chance to get back up on stage still holds a special lure. And Jenna knows that.

I can’t hide my smile as I hop up on the platform and take the guitar. Sam nods at me and I nod back, slipping the leather strap over my shoulder and taking the pick from his outstretched hand. I lay my palm against the body of the guitar and curl my fingers around the neck, settling in to the feel of the cool metal against my skin.

I look out at Jenna and her eyes tell me she knows I’m on top of the world right now. It reminds me of all the things that I love about her that have nothing to do with her body, but with her heart and her soul. She winks and calls out a question that doubles as a song request.