Page 2 of Double or Nothing

A moment later he raises his head and looks to Mac for a more critical, less biased response.

“You rocked it,” Mac tells him. “Fucking phenomenal.”

Sutton squeezes me a little tighter and I can feel the relief wash over him. Hearing it from me is one thing. But from Mac?

God love the guy, but he’s honest to a fault. And there have been more than a few times when he’s told Sutton flat out that his set sucked, or a song wasn’t good. Even though it pisses Sutton off, it also makes him work harder. He listens to Mac, respects him.

Every song he sings, every gig he performs, it’s all for practice. A form of preparation for when he hopefully hits it big. Personally, I don’t see how he can’t. He’s amazing. His voice is like butter and just glides right over you. It’s the kind of voice that you can feel all the way to your soul.

Sutton Cole is made to be a rock star.

“Come on,” he says, hands grabbing my waist. “Let’s get you home.”

“How about you get me in bed, instead?” I suck my bottom lip between my teeth as I raise my eyebrows at him.

Mac groans; Sutton shakes his head; and I bounce out of the bar and onto the street.

“One day, you’ll be performing on the Vegas strip. Or in another country,” I tell him.

“I hope so.” Sutton drapes his arm across my shoulders as we walk to Mac’s truck.

“I know so,” I tell him, truly believing the words I’m saying.

People might think I’m biased, and yeah, I guess I am. But Sutton; he’s talented. Legit talented. And there isn’t a doubt in my mind that he will make it.

***

When we pull into the driveway, Mac hops out of the truck and Sutton moves over to the driver seat.

“Clean the seats before you bring it back,” he tells Sutton, who only responds by giving Mac the middle finger.

Sutton throws the truck into drive and heads for his favorite spot – the abandoned baseball fields.

I’m not sure what it is about this place, but he loves it here. And I love that he’s turned his spot, the one he considers his refuge, into our spot. It means a lot to me. Proves how much I mean to him. Not that there has ever been a doubt in my mind.

The truck hasn’t even come to a full stop yet and I’m already pulling my dress over my head. Our spot. The spot where we come to make love. Tonight, after hearing and watching him on that stage, I’m a little more enthusiastic than usual.

“Goddamn, Kitty Kat,” he says. The words fall from his lips, his eyes glued to me, staring as if he’s in awe.

“You were so good tonight,” I tell him. “So fucking sexy on that stage.”

“Oh, yeah?”

I nod as I work the button on his pants. “I wanted you so bad.”

“Wanted? As in past tense?”

He pulls my hair back and wraps it around his fist. “As in always,” I tell him.

When I finally free him from his jeans, I begin to stroke his cock with my hand. I smile as I watch pleasure roll over the worry that had been etched in his chiseled features.

His hand still grips my hair as I lower my head, my lips wrapping around his head. As I sink down further, taking all of him in, he moans out my name.

I’m in no hurry. I take my time, slowly torturing and teasing him. My mouth tasting, my tongue licking, my hand stroking. I take everything I have been wanting all night and I savor every moment of it.

His hand tugs on my hair, coaxing me off of him.

With my lips swollen and wet, I look up at him.

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