Tiffany Reisz

It's Not Erotica Until Someone Gets Hurt

The best part about being an agented writer is getting to know your agency-mates and reading their unpublished works. I had the privilege of reading BEST. DAY. EVER. which is the Best. YA. Novel. ever by Miranda Kenneally. BEST. DAY. EVER. is the story of Savannah, an aspiring singer from Bell Buckle, Tennessee who on Career Day gets the chance to shadow Jesse Scott, country music’s most famous teenage superstar. I fell madly in love with Jesse and teased Miranda that if my main character of The Siren. Nora Sutherlin got her hands on Jesse, she’d give him the night of his life. Nora overheard me saying this, went behind my back, and gave Jesse Scott the night of his life.

Follow Miranda on Twitter @mirandakennealy. Miranda’s debut novel CATCHING JORDAN is out now. Order it here!

THE METRONOME

by Tiffany Reisz

Best. Day. Ever/THE SIREN Crossover FanFic

Starring Jesse Scott and Nora Sutherlin

(Jesse Scott is the creation of and is solely owned by Miranda Kenneally.

The events of THE METRONOME take place approximately six months before the events of THE SIREN.)

Thank God Almighty for five minutes alone. Jesse ran his manager off telling him he wanted to get dinner on his own. Brad left with obvious reluctance, loudly vocalizing the wisdom of letting Jesse make his way around New York City without a chaperone. But Jesse pulled the “I’m eighteen now so shoo” routine. And it worked.

After a quick post-show shower, Jesse changed into his favorite pair of ratty jeans—what his mother called his unholy pants despite all the holes in them—and pulled on a black t-shirt and his most comfortable black Dingos.

The roadies had already loaded up all his gear and the after-show Meet and Greet ended early. All he had to do now was sneak out the back door, grab a cab, and he’d own New York for the rest of the night. Tennessee was home and always would be, but there was something intoxicating about the anonymity he had in New York, the ability to blend in with the other southern tourists that made it one of his favorite places to disappear.

The show tonight had been at a concert hall. He’d even had a full orchestra backing him up for some of his songs. That had been pretty amazing. And then stripping down to just him on a stool with his guitar in a venue designed for operas…that had been beyond amazing. Wasn’t quite as cool as the Opry, he thought with a smile as he left his dressing room, but it would do.

He thought he’d lingered long enough everyone would be gone. But as soon as he stepped into the hallway, he noticed a figure standing in the shadows. And what a figure…It was a woman, obviously. No denying the hips on her. She had long wavy black hair and stood with her back to him, one leg crossed over the other.

“Ma’am?” he said, trying to get her attention without startling her.

“What is it about hearing ‘Ma’am’ in a southern accent that just curls my toes?” she asked in a melodious voice with a purr underneath each word.

Jesse shifted nervously from foot to foot.

“Are you supposed to be here?” He tried not to let the worry in his voice come out. He’d dealt with more than his fair share of crazy fans in his day.

He heard a soft laugh, a laugh that made the little hairs on the back of his neck stand up in very pleasant ways, and the woman turned around the face him. With slow, almost undulating steps, she walked out of the shadows.

“You’re Jesse Scott. Don’t you get to say who’s supposed to be here and who isn’t?”

He didn’t answer at first. Only looked her up and down. She wore all black—black skirt, black blouse with some sort of corset over it, and black boots that went up all the way to her thighs.

“Nice boots,” he said.

She smiled and glanced down at his feet before looking up and meeting his eyes with wicked grin on her face.

“Back at ya.”

He narrowed his eyes at her.

“Do I know you?” he asked, and sort of hoped the answer was “yes.”

“I don’t know. Do you read erotica?”

“Like that romance novel stuff?” The woman was older than him…he guessed maybe ten years at least. But God, so beautiful…green eyes, pale perfect skin, and the corset did amazing things to her already impressive cleavage.

She shook her head. “Oh no. Romance novels aren’t my thing. Not nearly enough sex in them. Nora Sutherlin—erotica writer, among other things,” she said and held out her hand. “And you need no introduction.”

“I guess not,” he said, shaking her hand. Her grip was stronger than he expected from such a petite woman. But her skin felt soft and warm against his guitar-calloused fingers. “What brings you backstage without a backstage pass, Ms. Sutherlin?”

“I need something from you. But I promise I’ll pay for it.”

“I don’t charge for autographs.” He let go of her hand and took a step back. Being close to her was more enjoyable than it oughta be, but he had no idea who this woman was and whatever she wanted from him, he was probably going to regret giving it to her.

She raised an eyebrow and walked back into the shadows. When she came back she carried a guitar case in her right hand.

“You a musician too?” he asked. In addition to crazy fans, he had crazy wannabe musicians stopping him all the time asking to sing or play for him. He preferred the crazy stalkers to the crazy musicians.

“I’m tone deaf and haven’t bought a CD since I was fifteen. But I’ve fucked my fair share of musicians. I was hoping you’d sign this for me. Birthday present for my best friend. He’s a fan.”

Jesse shook his head.

“I never sign guitars. The one time I did it was supposed to be for a children’s hospital. Instead it ended up on eBay and some jerk made twenty-thousand dollars off it.”

He expected her to pout. Pretty girls were always pouting at him. Jesse…why won’t you come back to the hotel with us? Jesse…will you call my baby sister and talk to her? Jesse…why didn’t you play my favorite song at the show tonight? Will you play it now, Jesse? But Nora Sutherlin didn’t pout. She just smiled.

“Fair enough. Was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Scott. Good luck on your tour.”

She picked up the guitar, turned on her heel, and started to walk away.

“Wait,” he said. “You giving up that easy?”

“I can take ‘no’ for an answer,” she said and then turned back around. “Unless you don’t want me to take ‘no’ for an answer.”

Jesse stiffened as she sat the guitar case down on the floor. Stepping up to him she drew herself to her full height—in her high-heeled boots she was about four inches shorter than him—and put one hand on each side of his head. He inhaled her perfume—she smelled of hot and blooming orchids—and a knot the size of a fist formed in the center of his stomach and started to make its way down to his groin.

“I know you don’t sign guitars,” she said. “The same way I don’t have sex with musicians to get their autographs. But, as they say, there’s a first time for everything, right?”

Jesse licked his lips and swallowed. Maybe his manager was right. Maybe he really shouldn’t be left alone in New York.

“Right,” he said.

She pulled her hands back and crossed her arms over her ample chest.

“Just so you know, I’m famous too even if you haven’t heard of me. In this town, in some circles, I’m a helluva a lot more famous than you are. I’m not saying this to brag. I just want you to know you don’t have to be afraid of me. You know Carter Bailey?”

His eyes widened.

“Hell yeah. He’s the best guitar player alive.” Carter Bailey started out playing Kentucky Bluegrass music twenty years ago in his late teens, and now he’d toured with everyone from Garth Brooks to Dave Matthews to Sting.

“And you know Carter Bailey doesn’t sign autographs either, right?” she asked.

“Right.”

The one time he’d met Bailey, he’d barely gotten two words out of the man. He’d gotten an autograph only after Bailey’s manager told him Jesse had covered one of his songs and sent it to number one on the charts twenty years after it was written.

Nora Sutherlin grinned and bent down. Her head was suddenly at thigh level, which wasn’t a bad view from where he stood. She snapped open the guitar case and pointed at a signature right by the bridge—Carter Bailey, it read and it looked identical to the signature in the framed photo he kept in his music room at home.

“Carter’s a friend of mine.” She snapped the guitar case shut and stood back up again. “We’ve done a little business together. He’s the one who got me back here. Hope you don’t mind.”

“I think I might send him a ‘thank you’ note.”

“How cordial of you. Anyway, Carter can vouch for me if you need him to. I’ve got him in my cell.”

Carter Bailey was in her cell phone? She said it so casually that everything in him knew it was true. And Bailey did not, did NOT sign autographs for just anybody. And he’d never heard of him signing a guitar ever.

“So this friend of yours…this is his guitar?”

“Yeah. Best friend. He’s in Kentucky this weekend for his nineteenth birthday. I told him I’d get him a new guitar case for his birthday while he’s out of town. I thought I’d throw in a few autographs too.”

“Your best friend is only nineteen?”

Another dangerous smile spread across her face.

“I like younger men. So, can we negotiate for the autograph? I’ll give to your favorite cause, or I’ll give you to your favorite body part. Or both. I’m feeling very giving tonight.”

She raised an eyebrow and waited. God, what was he doing? He’d had sex before…but it had always been with fans or the daughters of musicians he’d worked with…girls his age. This was no girl. This was a woman. A very adult woman who wrote erotica and wore corsets and could get Carter Bailey to sign a guitar for her. And even though he had an album on the charts and had sold out a huge venue tonight in New York tonight and had, in fact, sold out every venue on this tour…he was the one who was nervous, and she wasn’t even batting an eyelash at being in his presence. He definitely wasn’t used to being the nervous one.

He kind of liked it.

“Where should we go?” he asked.

“Where are you staying?”

“The St. Regis.”

She nodded her approval. “Very nice. Good choice.”

He cocked his famous half-smile at her, the smile that made it onto all the magazine covers.

“I always say, ‘Go big or go home.’”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Go big or go home? That’s cute. Me, I just go down. Car’s outside. Want a ride?”

More than anything, he thought but didn’t say that out loud.

She started to bend down to pick up the guitar but Jesse beat her to it.

“Aren’t you gallant? I love you southern boys.”

“And I’m starting to get very fond of Yankee women.”

“If you weren’t fond of us before, you will be after tonight.”

Laughing, he opened the backstage door for her and his eyes widened at the sight in front of him.

“Nice” he said, impressed despite himself. He wasn’t a huge car fan—motorcycles were his thing but even he knew a Rolls Royce when he saw one.

“It’s not mine. For work I drive a Lexus. For fun I drive an Aston Martin. The Rolls belongs to the King—not Elvis. Different King. But guitars and sports cars don’t go that well together. Not roomy enough.”

A young woman wearing a chauffeur’s uniform hopped out of the car and opened the door for them. Nora Sutherlin slid in first and then he followed, careful not to bang the guitar as he entered. It might not be his guitar but he gave the Gibson the respect it deserved.

“Jesse’s staying at St. Regis,” she said to the driver as she settled into the seat. “I can call you Jesse, can’t I?”

“Yeah. Of course. Do I call you Nora?”

“You can call me Nora. But I’d rather you call me ‘Ma’am’ again.”

Jesse shook his head and stretched out his long legs in the roomy backseat.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“I really do love the way you say ‘Ma’am.’” She threw her legs over his thighs and stared at him through the dark. Jesse put his hands on her booted ankles and slid them up her legs. He hesitated at the hem of her skirt but she pushed closer and spread her legs a little. That was more than enough encouragement for him. He brought his hand up to the apex of her thighs and caressed her gently through her silk and lace panties. He felt the silk dampen against his fingers and for the first time he realized this was really going to happen with this woman who was both crazy and beautiful and crazy beautiful.

They arrived at the hotel much too soon. Nora winked at him as he pulled his hands away from her. He got out first so he could open the door for Nora. She stepped out and headed straight for the front doors.

“Hey, Jack,” she said to the bellhop who raced up to take the guitar from him. Jesse waved him off not trusting anyone but himself with a guitar.

“Ms. Sutherlin. Nice to see you again. Mr. Scott—we hope you’re enjoying your stay,” Jack The Bellhop said as the elevator opened and he and Nora stepped inside.

“Plan to, Jack,” Jesse said with a grin.

Alone with her in the elevator, Jesse laughed and shook his head.

“So you know the bellhop here?”

“I’m not a hooker, just so you know. I’ve never had sex for money in my life. Well, except for my friend Sheridan and she doesn’t count. Not because she’s a woman but because, well, she’s Sheridan. Besides, she can afford it. But I do have quite a few special friends I meet around town. Told you, in New York, I’m more famous than you are. That bother you?”

“Not a damn bit.” And neither did knowing she had sex with women. If he was bothered, it was only hot and bothered. And he wasn’t about to complain about that either.

The elevator continued its climb to the penthouse suite.

“Good answer. One more question,” she said. “Does this bother you?”

Before he could ask what she meant, she’d reached up and wrapped her arm around his neck and pulled his mouth down to hers. Their lips met and he felt a thrill of electricity coursing from his lips to his hips. She opened her mouth and her tongue pressed gently against his. God, she knew how to kiss—the pressure, the heat…it was so perfect. Her fingers dug into the back of his neck. He was getting hard right in the elevator and from just a kiss alone. And if she wasn’t careful, she was going to make him drop her best friend’s precious guitar that was now worth about forty-thousand dollars with that Carter Bailey signature on it.

She pulled back and he panted for breath.

“No,” he finally said. “That didn’t bother me at all.”

The elevator door opened and Nora stepped out into the hall. He took another breath before joining her.

“This way,” he said. “Last room on the right.”

“Penthouse suite. I know. I’ve been here before. Probably with Carter if I remember correctly.”

“Carter as good in bed as he is on guitar?” Jesse asked as he opened the door to his suite for her.

“I don’t know. We’ve never had sex. That’s not what we do.”

Nora clearly hadn’t been joking when she said she’d been here before. The suite had three rooms and without having to ask, she headed straight for the door to the master bedroom.

“So what do you and Carter do?” he asked as he entered the bedroom behind her. The bedroom was huge and opulent with a king-sized bed draped in gold and cream linens. But it was Nora who commanded his complete attention.

“I can’t tell you. It goes against the code. I’ll no more tell you what Carter and I do together then I’ll tell anyone what you and I will do together.” She turned and faced him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “You can shout what we do from the rooftops if you want, but I’ll keep your private life private.”

He found her promise oddly touching. He wasn’t really the kiss and tell kind of guy but he was a country singer, not a Christian rock singer. He didn’t really care if people knew he fooled around on occasion. But something told him what he and Nora did tonight would feel a lot different from any of his casual hookups.

“So what are we doing tonight?” he asked.

“It’s me. We can do anything you want. What do you like doing?”

“The kissing wasn’t bad.”

“Wasn’t bad at all. But we both know that’s not what I was asking about.” Nora stood in front of him and slipped her hands under his t-shirt. His stomach muscles tightened as she pressed her hands into his stomach. “I was telling the truth. Anything you say to me, anything we do together, I will keep private. You don’t have to be embarrassed or ashamed. Whatever you want, whatever you’re into…it’s on the table. Now tell me what you want.”

Jesse found himself blushing, something he didn’t do very often. He knew what she was talking about…kinky stuff—whips and chains and what not. None of that really appealed to him. Tying a girl up might be fun but he had a feeling if anybody was going to get tied up tonight, it would be him.

“Anything’s on the table?” he asked. “Anything?”

“Anything. Shock me.”

“How about you…on the table?” He inclined his head toward an elegant writing desk in the corner of the master bedroom.

“Me? Oh, I’m definitely on the table.”

Nora strode to the table and sat on the edge. Jesse came over and stood in front of her. Putting his hands on her knees, he pushed her legs apart just far enough for him to stand between her thighs. He bent his head and kissed her long and deep, sliding his hands under her skirt. When she moaned softly in the back of her throat, he nearly came inside his boxers.

Finally he had to stop or he was going to embarrass himself in front of this vastly more experienced older woman. Coming from kissing would make him look about twelve-years-old.

“Nervous?” she asked.

“Yeah, a little,” he admitted. “I’m not a virgin though. I have done this before.”

“Quick hookups in your dressing room after shows?”

“Mostly,” he admitted. “Not that quick though. We’re not done until I know she’s enjoyed herself. No matter how long it takes.”

“Good boy. Nothing’s sexier than a man who makes sure his partner is taken care of. In the mood to take care of me?”

“Absolutely.”

She shook her head at him. “I’m Nora Sutherlin. When you’re with me, you say ‘Yes, Ma’am,’ remember?”

He started to laugh but he saw she was serious. He definitely wasn’t in Kansas anymore. Or Tennessee. Or anywhere in the world that didn’t have women like Nora Sutherlin. Tonight he was so damn glad to be in the world part of the world that did have women like Nora Sutherlin.

Jesse leaned in and kissed her one more time.

“Yes, Ma’am,” he said against her lips.

He reached deeper under her skirt and found her panties. He started to pull them down.

“Rip them off,” she ordered. Ordered—from her tone he had no doubt that was definitely an order.

He hesitated only a second before tearing the flimsy lace with his hands and yanking it off her. Testosterone surged through his whole body at the barbaric gesture. He had a feeling that’s what she wanted.

Jesse pushed Nora’s skirt up high around her hips and knelt on the floor. She opened her legs wide for him and he spread her open with his fingertips. Glancing up at her to make sure it was okay, Nora leaned back on her hands and grinned down at him. Definitely okay.

He ran his tongue up and down her. She tasted so ridiculously good.

“The clit ring doesn’t freak you out, does it?” she asked.

He’d barely noticed the small hoop of metal in her clitoris. Instead of answering he pulled off his t-shirt exposing the big Celtic tattoo that adorned his shoulder blade.

“I don’t mind alternative body decor,” he said. “Ma’am.”

She laid her booted leg over his back. The act was so seductive, so dominant that he had to taste her again, immediately.

He pushed his tongue into her, sucked lightly on her clit ring, and dragged her forward an inch on the desk so he could kiss her even harder. He was usually gentler with a girl, especially doing this, but Nora seemed to breathe louder the rougher her was with her.

Pushing her legs even wider, Jesse reached between her thighs and slid two fingers into her and crooked them upwards. As he hoped, it sent her over the edge. She arched into his mouth and came with the sexiest panting he ever heard in his life.

“God, I love singers,” she said breathlessly. “You all know how to use your mouths.”

“Thank you, Ma’am,” he said, coming to his feet. “Was all my pleasure.”

“No. I think it’s safe to say it was mostly my pleasure. Now let’s see to yours, shall we?”

She reached out and ran her hands over his chest and stomach. Pulling him close to her she bit and kissed his neck and shoulders. And when he thought he couldn’t stand it anymore, she reached between them and unbuttoned his jeans.

“I have condoms in my luggage somewhere,” he said into her ear as she reached into his jeans and wrapped her hand around him.

“I have condoms in my boot,” she answered, teasing him with long, thorough strokes of her gentle fingers. “Left boot. My left.”

His brain was so addled with need that he almost reached for her right boot. Her left was his right. He slipped a finger into the top of her boot and pulled out a condom.

“Handy,” he said. “You were so certain I’d say ‘yes’?”

“No, I wasn’t. But I have the house to myself while Best Friend is in Kentucky. I wasn’t planning on spending the night by myself.”

“Your best friend lives with you?”

“He does. But we aren’t sleeping together. I only fuck Tennessee boys these days.”

“I have never been happier to not be from Kentucky.”

Nora took the condom from him and he blushed again as she put it on him. He’d never been with a woman so take-charge before.

She positioned him at the entrance of her body and he pushed in slowly and deep as he could into her hot, wet body. Burying his head in the crook of her neck he exhaled in bliss.

“I want you to enjoy this,” she said.

“I am. Trust me,” he said after the first thrust into her.

“Really enjoy it. Breathe deep and slow. Don’t thrust too hard or too fast just yet. You feel so good inside me that I want it to last for a long time. Can you handle that?”

He took a slow deep breath as she instructed.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

She lightly ran her fingers up and down his back.

“You’re a gorgeous kid, Jesse. Just gorgeous.”

“But still a kid, right?”

“I’m thirty-two. Enjoy the hell out of it when someone calls you a ‘kid.’”

He pressed into her again. Resting his forehead on her shoulder, he glanced down at them.

“Sexy, isn’t it?” she asked.

“What is?”

Nora snapped her fingers by his face and he started. He met her eyes.

Smiling, she reached down and yanked her skirt even higher. She leaned back on her hands again and lifted her hips to take him even deeper into her.

“Look,” she ordered. “I want you to.”

Blushing for a third time, Jesse looked down and saw himself sliding in and out of her. It was sexy. His dressing room romps had always been fun but they were quick and playful—clothes coming off in a rush, arms and legs everywhere, coming hard and fast and then saying a quick awkward goodbye. Never had he slowed down like this and just enjoyed the act of being buried inside a woman’s body. Never had he just watched himself moving inside a woman before.

“I’m going to come from just watching,” he warned her.

“No coming yet,” she said, leaning forward again. “Put your hands on my hips. Squeeze,” she ordered.

He did as she instructed, not quite sure why he was doing it.

“I want you to take the pressure out of your hips and put it into mine. You get too close to coming, then you squeeze my hips as hard as you can.”

He shook his head. “I’ll hurt you.”

“Honey, pain is the opposite of a deterrent where I’m concerned. Now just keeping breathing, keep fucking, and don’t come until I tell you to.”

“What about you?” he panted the words. “When are you going to come?”

“Wasn’t planning on it for this round. This time’s for you.”

“I want you to come too. Please.”

She raised an eyebrow at him.

“I can’t resist a man who begs. Usually. But you better beg a little more just in case.”

“Please,” he whispered in her ear. “Please, Ma’am. I want to hear you come again.”

“Oh, fine,” she said with a playfully put-upon sigh. “If you insist.”

She slipped a hand in-between them, and he watched her press her fingers to her clitoris.

“I can do that for you,” he said.

“Nope. Your hands stay on my hips. Don’t you dare take them off.”

“No, Ma’am,” he said.

He closed his eyes and concentrated on his movements. He did exactly what she ordered—thrust slow and long and deep and every time he felt the pressure building too high, he’d squeeze her hips to release some of the tension.

“You have fantastic rhythm, Jesse,” Nora said, her free hand running through his hair. “It’s like fucking a metronome.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment. It is, right?”

“Definitely. I’m Catholic. We love men with natural rhythm.”

Jesse squeezed her hips again, so hard he knew she’d have bruises on them tomorrow. She barely flinched from the pressure.

“About to die?” she asked.

“Yes, Ma’am,” he said, swallowing hard. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been inside her but it was at least three or four times as long as he’d ever lasted before. He couldn’t remember having whole conversations with any girl while he’d been inside her.

“Okay. I’m going to let you come. We’re going to do it at the same time. When I dig my nails into your shoulder, that’s when you know you can let go. Understand?”

“Definitely. I mean, Yes, Ma’am.” He couldn’t wait to feel her fingernails in his skin.

He started to thrust harder and faster as Nora began moving her fingers on her clitoris harder and faster. This was unbelievable—he was getting to have sex and watch a beautiful woman pleasure herself at the same time.

Nora started panting again. Or was it him panting against her? Either way, the pressure built until he could hardly stand it. And then he felt Nora’s fingernails bite into his tattoo. He pushed in with almost brutal force and came so hard his eyes watered.

It took a few seconds, or maybe even a few minutes, for the haze of pleasure to clear enough that he could hear Nora breathing hard against his chest.

“Best orgasm you ever had?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said, still panting. “I think I’m blind though.”

“Side effect. It’ll pass.”

“Please tell me that was at least half as good for you as it was for me.”

“At least. I still have my eyesight but one ear is definitely ringing. You’re still inside me. You know that right?”

“I do. I think I like it here.” He pushed in again just to feel her inner muscles twitch around him.

“Then you’re welcome to stay as long as you like. But you know, this is a suite in the St. Regis. We should probably make use of the bed sometime tonight. Just so you get your money’s worth.”

“Record company’s paying for it.”

She shrugged. “Then the desk is fine.”

Jesse wrapped his arms around Nora and without asking permission, lifted her up and carried her quickly to the bed. He was still inside her when he laid her on her back against the opulent pale gold cover.

“I like my record company. I want them to get their money’s worth.”

Nora laughed and snapped her fingers and pointed her thumb.

“Out of me, Kid. Do I look like a missionary position girl to you?”

He slid out of her and disposed of the condom. He came back to the bed and crawled across it to her.

Kissing her hair, he whispered, “No missionary position? Ever?”

“Not anymore. Too submissive to be on my back like that. But you on your back…that’s a different story.”

Nora turned with shocking speed and pushed him flat onto his back.

“Stay,” she said.

“Yes, Ma’am.” As if there was anywhere in the world he’d rather be than on this bed with her right now.

She walked across the room and picked up her black purse off the floor where she’d dropped it. While digging through it she glanced at him and gave him a wicked grin.

“Here we are,” she said and dropped her bag again. She came back to the bed holding what looked like black rope in her hands. “Do you object to rope cuffs?”

“Depends on what you’re going to do to me while I’m wearing them,” he said, eyeing the cuffs warily.

Nora didn’t smile as she answered, “I’m going to blow you.”

“Alright. I don’t object then.”

“Didn’t think so.”

Kneeling at the corner of the bed by the bedpost, Nora crooked her finger at him and Jesse crawled over to her.

“You know you don’t have to tie me up to this, Ma’am. I’m not going to go anywhere.”

“I know guys like you, Jesse. You don’t mind being center stage on an actual stage, but in bed you get nervous if you think for one second, she’s not having the time of her life. I want you to relax and just enjoy the moment instead of constantly thinking about what you need to be doing to me. Trust me, I can take care of myself.”

“That I can believe,” he said, sitting next to her. “So what do I do?”

“Give me your hand.”

Jesse stretched out his arm. She took him by the hand and all of a sudden jerked him toward her. Her mouth was on his and he laughed into her lips at the attack of kissing. But he stopped laughing as the kiss went on and on. It wasn’t funny anymore. It was deep and wet and warm and intense and his heart pounded wildly in his chest. Nora kept kissing him even as she pushed him onto his back and was still kissing him as she pressed his arms over his head.

“Lay still,” she ordered.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

She shook her head. “It really never gets old.”

“You ever going to say ‘Yes, Sir,’ to me?”

“No, Sir,” she said and kissed him once more.

Jesse lay still and breathed as she wrapped the black cord around his right wrist, looped the rope cuffs around the bedpost, and wrapped his left wrist. She pulled the rope taut and it hugged his skin tight but not painfully so.

Nora straddled him again and kissed him. And then she wasn’t kissing his mouth anymore but the sensitive skin of his chest and collarbone. She moved down his stomach and grazed his sides with her gentle lips. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head back into the luxurious linens and groaned softly as opened his jeans and wrapped her mouth around him.

He’d only let a couple of girls ever do this to him. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy it—what guy didn’t? But he felt really vulnerable doing this. He never knew if the girl was doing it because he was famous and she felt like she had to. Usually he just skipped this activity for things that were more mutually pleasurable. But it was different with Nora. She gave the orders; he took them. Who was he to countermand one of her directives?

Nora took her time on him. He opened his eyes long enough to watch her lick him from base to tip before closing his eyes again. Sexy as hell to see but if wanted to not come in five seconds, he needed to stay a little calmer.

Her mouth felt so warm and wet on him. The pressure was perfect. Instinctively he started to reach down to touch her hair or her face but was stopped by the cuffs. She laughed a little at his struggle and the vibration from her laugh sent him to the edge.

Digging his heels into the bed, he arched up and came in her mouth. He opened his eyes as she moved to his stomach and placed a long kiss on the center of it.

“I think I’m gonna write a song about you,” he said.

She shrugged and seemed to mull the idea over.

“I’ve had poetry written about me. A song would be nice. I might write a story about you.”

“Really? What would you call it? The Graduate, Part II?”

She leaned over and released his wrists.

“How about The Metronome?”

He shook his head. “Not dirty enough.”

Two orgasms for each of them left them both hungry for more than just each other’s bodies. They stretched out on the bed and dove into the recently delivered late night room service.

“So I guess I should have asked this before the first time we fucked,” Nora said, taking a healthy bite of her cheesecake, “but you are legal, right? I always forget to ask first.”

“Very legal.” Jesse popped a French fry in his mouth. He loved ordering white trash food at five-star hotels. “Eighteen, almost nineteen.”

“Still, that’s pretty young to be touring the world by yourself.”

Jesse shrugged. “I’d like my family to come with me but my parents and I aren’t getting along very well these days.”

“Your fault or theirs? Or none of my business?”

“None of your business. But definitely my fault. Got wasted and fell off a boat. Nasty press about that little incident. Mom and Dad haven’t quite forgiven me yet. They’re real conservative.”

Nora gave him a sympathetic smile. She looked so pretty right now and a lot younger than thirty-two. She’d taken off her killer boots and her bare feet wiggled in the air behind her.

“I made a mess of my teenage years too. I got arrested when I was fifteen.”

“Seriously? What for? DUI? Indecent exposure?”

She scoffed. “I’ll have you know, Young Man, I got arrested for grand theft auto.”

Jesse nearly choked on a French fry.

“You stole a car at fifteen?”

She shook her head. “Honey, I stole a lot of cars at fifteen. Five in one night—luxury cars, sports cars…it was a Ford Mustang Cobra that got me caught though.”

“Joyriding?”

“Nope. It was dear old Dad,” she said, and took a sip of her wine. She’d ordered a bottle of red but wouldn’t let him have a glass. “My mom thought she was marrying a sweet Catholic mechanic. Turned out Dad’s car shop was a chop shop with mob ties. Let’s just say at an early age I showed quite a talent for the family business.”

“Grand theft auto. That’s a big deal. Did you go to Juvie?”

“Was headed there. I was looking at being locked up until I was eighteen at least and twenty-one more likely.”

“What happened?”

She smiled, almost sadly this time.

“My priest bailed me out and talked the judge into giving me community service instead. But I had to sign my life away basically.”

“To the judge?”

“To my priest. He owned me after that. The judge put him in charge of my community service. But he did a good job. I am now thoroughly reformed.”

Jesse laughed so hard he almost fell off the bed.

“If this is you reformed, I’d hate to see you backslide.”

“The world shudders at the thought.”

Standing up, Jesse put his dishes back on the room service cart. Nora had only taken a few bites of her cheesecake but she let her food join his.

“Not hungry?” he asked.

“Starving actually,” she said, and grabbed the belt loops of his jeans and pulled him down on top of her. He pressed his hips into hers and she pressed back. He couldn’t believe he was already so turned on again. This woman was like a drug and he was quickly getting addicted.

“I thought you said you don’t fuck on your back.”

“We aren’t fucking. But we can change that if you want.”

He dipped his head and kissed her, loving the way her mouth tasted of wine and chocolate.

“I definitely want. You know what else I want?”

“Tell me. Tell me anything you want.”

“You’re gonna be disappointed. I know you keep wanting me to tell you something kinky. It’s just not me.”

“Jesse, we’ve been doing kink since the second we met.”

He raised his eyebrow at her and she pushed her hips into his again.

“I think I would of remembered the whips and chains.”

She shook her head. “Kink isn’t just S&M. I make you call me ‘Ma’am.’  That’s dominance. I give orders. You take them. I tied you up. I made you beg. Oh, and I denied you your orgasm until I gave you permission. All kink. And if we can probably classify your amazing gift for oral sex as pussy worship.”

“Pussy worship. Well, I am really fond of my cat, Casper.”

“I’m pretty fond of my pussy too. But don’t think I need you to come at me with some wild sexual fantasy about wearing a nurse’s uniform while some guy dressed like Hitler spanks you. I just want you to be honest with me and tell me what you really want. Now tell me.”

Jesse kissed her again and realized that despite the age difference and how much more experienced she was than him, he felt safer with her than he had with so many of his backstage hookups.

“Okay. It’s boring, but I really would love to be completely naked with you…completely naked.”

“That doesn’t sound at all boring, Jesse. And I think that is on the table.”

Jesse grinned and kissed the hollow of her throat.

“Forget the table. The bed’s a lot more comfortable.”

Nora reached down and yanked his t-shirt off him. He’d only put it back on for the room service delivery anyway. He started in on Nora’s corset shirt but realized quickly he had no idea how it worked.

“Hook in eyes,” she said as she made quick work of the intricate little hooks. The corset hit the floor and she unbuttoned the sheer black blouse underneath. Jesse reached out and pulled it off her and then slowly and with great pleasure, he unhooked her bra and slid it off her arms, letting it join her corset and his t-shirt on the floor.

“Wow,” he breathed. Her breasts were beautiful…full and soft and far more womanly than he’d ever seen on the skinny little seventeen and eighteen-year-old groupies he’d fooled around with before.

“Good wow?” she asked, unbuttoning his jeans.

“Very good wow.” He’d already taken off his boots when Nora had earlier and he slipped his boxers off along with his jeans. He unzipped Nora’s skirt and she shimmied out of it and threw it on the floor. Shoulder to shoulder, chest to chest, hip to hip, and thigh to thigh they laid together on the bed. Her bare skin felt so unbelievably good against his.

He kissed her neck and worked his way down to her ample breasts. She sighed as he took a nipple in his mouth and sucked lightly on it. And when he sucked a little harder, she flinched from obvious pleasure, so much obvious pleasure that he couldn’t stop doing it for the next ten minutes.

“Jesse, if you don’t stop doing that, I’m going to have an orgasm without you,” she said, her breath catching in her throat. He had his mouth on her breasts and three fingers buried inside her.

“Sorry? I guess?”

“Come here, Cowboy. On your back.”

“On my back again? This cowboy and the ceilings of St. Regis are getting very well-acquainted.”

“Speaking of cowboy, where’s your hat? Aren’t all you country singers required by law to wear a cowboy hat constantly?”

“Only in Tennessee. We get a reprieve if we go North of the Mason Dixon.”

“I want to see the hat.”

“Good Lord, woman. It’s over here.”

Jesse reluctantly left the bed and retrieved his beige cowboy hat from his bags stacked by the bathroom. He hadn’t planned on wearing it tonight after the show. With that had on he might as well stand next to a neon arrow and sign that read, “Jesse Scott, Country Music Star.”

“You aren’t going to make me wear it while we have sex, are you?” he asked, not really caring if she made him wear the aforementioned nurse’s uniform as long as he got to press his body into hers again.

She reached out and took the hat from him. And then with practiced ease and rather shocking dignity for a completely naked woman, she twirled the hat in her hand, rolled it up her arm, and sat it on her head.

“Good wow again,” he said at the sight of her kneeling on the bed wearing nothing but his hat. What he wouldn’t give for a picture of that to hang in his music room next to the signed Carter Bailey print.

“Ever done reverse cowgirl?”

“Can’t say that I have.”

She snapped her fingers and pointed at the bed.

“On my back. Yes, Ma’am.”

He rolled onto his back and reached for her. She pretended like she was going to straddle his stomach facing him but instead she turned her back to him and sat on his hips.

Jesse panted as she stroked him with her nimble fingers. When he was so hard it hurt, she slipped a condom on him and took him into her. She rocked her hips and he pressed deep into her.

“Thoughts on reverse cowgirl?” she asked.

“Feels amazing, Ma’am. But it’s a little frustrating.”

“Frustrating how?”

“I want to touch you. All of you.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that logic.”

She slid off him and turned around.

“Better idea. How about this?”

Crawling up to the headboard Nora braced herself against it. She spread her knees wide and Jesse pressed in behind her. He slipped inside her wet and waiting body and began slowly thrusting. With both of them kneeling and his chest pressed into her back, his hands were free to roam all over her. He caressed her hips and stomach, ran his hands up and down her arms and chest, and finally let himself cup her breasts and touch her nipples again.

Thrusting even harder, he reached between her legs and found her swollen clitoris. He was gratified to hear her moan and feel her shudder as he brought her to a loud and lusty orgasm. He gripped the headboard, pushed high and hard into her, and came with a fierce orgasm of his own.

Jesse slid out of her and collapsed back onto the bed exhausted.

“Poor thing. I’ve worn you out,” Nora said, curling up on his chest. He wrapped an arm over her back and decided he liked that feeling of her in his arms a little too much. He knew this whatever was a one-night thing. He left town tomorrow and even if he didn’t, she was older than him and lived a life he couldn’t begin to imagine. He wrapped his other arm around her anyway.

“Yes, Ma’am. You have. But I promise I will recover.”

“You don’t have if you don’t want. We can just hang out and talk. Or you can kick me out and sleep if you need to.”

He shook his head. “You can’t leave yet. I haven’t signed your guitar for your best friend yet. That’s why you’re with me, right?”

“What guitar?” she asked.

Jesse squeezed her a little tighter.

“Good answer.”

An hour later while Nora was in the bathroom, Jesse threw off the covers, pulled on his jeans, and grabbed his own guitar out of the case. He quickly tuned it and started strumming a song he couldn’t quite stop singing in his head.

Nora came out of the bathroom wearing his black boxer shorts and black t-shirt. She looked even sexier in his clothes than hers.

Jesse kept playing while Nora stared at him, studying his fingers.

“Hey, I know that song.”

Grinning, Jesse stopped playing long enough to adjust his capo.

“Sorry. Couldn’t help myself.”

“What is it?”

He looked at her. “You don’t know what it is?”

“I’ve heard it. Wes—best friend, roommate, guitar owner—he plays it all the time.”

Jesse started laughing and she sat on the bed across from him.

“It’s called ‘That Summer.’  It’s a Garth Brooks song from the nineties. Your nineteen-year-old roommate plays this around the house all the time? Is he a virgin by any chance?”

Nora gave him a half smile and a look of shock.

“He is actually. Methodist. Really Methodist. Why? He plays the song but he never sings it. Does it have lyrics?”

“It does. I don’t remember them all though so don’t make me sing them. The song’s about a teenage boy who goes to work for a widow one summer, and she takes his virginity and teaches him all about life and sex. Your roommate isn’t a little bit in love with you, is he?”

“No way. He and I are just friends. But he’s a smart ass. That’s probably why he plays it all the time. I went out on a job last week and he started serenading me with ‘Roxanne’ in his ridiculous falsetto.”

“Very nice,” Jesse said and had a feeling Nora was a little clueless where her roommate, best friend, guitar owner was concerned. Any virginal teenage guy from the south who sat around the house playing ‘That Summer’ was a virginal teenage guy from the south who was in love with an older woman. But if Nora didn’t get that, he wasn’t about to tell her. He much preferred her thinking about him right now.

“Too funny. I’m going to tease Wes about it when he comes home.”

“You gonna tease him that you slept with one of his favorite singers?” he asked.

“Nope. I want Wes to be able to enjoy your music without imagining me going down on you. Although I have every intention of buying one of your albums and imagining going down on you while I listen to it.”

“That is every musician’s dream. Your friend Wes sounds interesting.”

“He is. He’s easily one of the best things that’s ever happened to me. He’s sweet and kind and really smart. He’s got messy hair like you, plays guitar too. He sings but only around the house and in church. You two have a lot in common. You’d probably be friends if you ever met.”

Jesse looked down and strummed a few chords on his guitar. He looked up at her and then down at his fingers.

“Tonight with me…” he began. “Tonight wasn’t just you spending the night with someone who reminded you of him, was it? I mean, it’s okay if it was. I was just curious.”

Nora looked at him for a long time. Then she leaned over, took his guitar from his hands and sat it aside.

“Jesse,” she said. “Look at me.”

He met her eyes and saw something burning inside them.

“Jesse,” she said again. “Jesse. Jesse is the only reason I came here, the only reason I had sex with you, and the only reason I’ll be smiling like an idiot for the next week. You…Jesse. No one else. Got that?”

Jesse nodded and looked away. He wasn’t used to feeling like this—feeling uncomfortable in such a weirdly comfortable way. He kind of wished they’d booked him a few more gigs in New York.

Leaning forward, he kissed Nora long and deep.

“Again?” she asked and he knew exactly what she meant.

“Definitely. But I’ve got to do something first.”

He stood up, went over to her friend’s guitar case and snapped it open. He grabbed a sharpie out of his bag and signed the guitar a few inches from where Carter had signed it. He liked being in such good company.

“Okay,” he said, shutting the guitar back in the case. “Where were we, Ma’am?”

Nora smiled at him. He rolled his eyes, pulled off his jeans, and laid yet again on his back.

At dawn they finally gave up and slept a few hours. Jesse couldn’t believe she’d stayed the whole night with him. Falling asleep with his arm over her side was one of the better feelings of his life. But when he woke up later it was to an empty bed and the soft sound of high-heels on carpet. He turned over in the bed and saw Nora lacing up her boots.

“Gotta go?” he asked, running a hand through his shaggy hair.

“Yeah. Unfortunately. Breakfast with the King today. Work stuff. I’d stay if I could. Promise.”

He saw from the smile in her eyes that she meant it.

“You know, I’m going to back in town in December. Christmas Concert at Radio City. I can call you if you want me to.”

“I want you to. That could be a very Merry Christmas.”

He grabbed his cell phone off the nightstand, and she rattled her number off to him.

“Here’s mine,” he said. “So you know to answer when I call or text you.”

He gave her his number and she programmed it in. He wasn’t just on the same guitar as Carter Bailey; now he was in the same phone as Carter Bailey.

“Don’t put my real name in your phone though,” he said. “I just had to change numbers again. My manager’s assistant stole his phone, and she sold my number to some paparazzi asshole.”

“Don’t worry, Kid,” Nora said, sitting next to him on the bed. “I never program real names in my phone. Carter Bailey is under Care Bear.”

“I’m sure he’d be thrilled. What am I?”

“You? You’re The Metronome.”

“So you will answer if I call?” he asked, still not quite believing it.

Nora reached out and picked up his cowboy hat off the nightstand. She rolled it up her arm again and sat it on her head. She doffed the hat in true southern gentleman style.

“Yes, Sir.”

Need more Jesse Scott? Read a Jesse Scott short by Miranda right here.