Evie charms the audience with funny stories and jokes, and the songs, while a lot twangier than I usually listen to, end up being about fifty percent covers of hip-hop tunes. Knowing the lyrics doesn’t help at all, though, as the same song is an entirely different beast when accompanied by a banjo and a fiddle.
Megan Thee Stallion’s WAP has never sounded dirtier, or sillier, before.
At some point, Jansen slides up behind me, his hands on my hips, pulling me flush to him as we rock in time to the music.
I can tell how much my proximity affects him. Turning my head, I raise a brow, but he just gives me a slow kiss, eyes shining. It’s a promise. A silent agreement for later.
Good, normal, everyday. Exactly what we’ve needed.
The band calls for a break, promising to be back in thirty minutes, and then the room buzzes with silence. Or maybe that’s my ears.
Emma spins and pulls me into a hug, bouncing on her toes. “Oh my God, Clara. I think I’m in love, and I haven’t even talked to her. I’m so freaking nervous right now.”
“You’re hot, you’re smart, you’ve got this.”
Jansen takes my hand, I hold my other one out to Emma, and the three of us follow the band to a small room by the back door.
“Yoo-hoo? You decent, Evie?” he calls.
The door’s thrown open, then Jansen’s sister is there, her gaze critical instead of buoyant like it was on stage.
“So, you’re the girl?” she asks, looking me over with her lips in a tight line.
“Hi! You were great out there,” I say, hoping that ignoring her distrust will get her to like me faster.
“Are you a bluegrass fan?” one of the guys in the room asks, lounging on an old plaid couch.
“No, but my friend Emma is,” I say, shoving my friend through the door. Jansen and I follow, leaving Evie to click the door shut behind us.
The siblings have a whispered argument by the door while Emma chats with Evie’s bandmates, all of them talking about their favorite bands and songs. Basically speaking a foreign language.
I tuck myself onto the arm of the couch, letting the conversation flow without me. My mind has nearly wandered into worries when Jansen bands his arm around my waist, pulling me tight.
“Everything okay?” I whisper.
“Yeah. Evie’s just really protective.”
“Any reason why?”
“Yeah, but let’s not worry about that now.”
Evie sits beside us, and while I’m sure she’s trying to be subtle, she’s checking out Emma, and a grin stretches across my face. I might not win her over, but Emma’s doing great. Step one complete.
I slide off the couch, heading toward the door, and with a boldness I should have expected from her, Emma plants her ass next to Evie, taking the seat I just vacated. Nice. Step two, well on its way.
“We’ll be right back,” I announce, not yet having an excuse, but assuming it’ll be enough. Jansen follows my lead.
We slip from the room with no commentary. Turning to Jansen for a high-five, I find myself plastered against the wall, his hands digging into my hair, his teeth nipping at my mouthand demanding entry. I open and let him sweep thought from my head.
The rigid steel of his dick presses against me, and I gasp, swamped in need so strong I hardly can contain it. “Jay, not here. Photos,” I whimper, wanting him more than I want to be careful.
But somehow, he does what I can’t, and in an instant, we’re locked in the single-stall men’s room, my butt on the counter as he continues to devour me. “Shit,” I whisper as he licks and nips down the side of my neck. “I need you.”
“Good.”
Lifting myself so he can yank my pants down, they get caught on my boots, but neither of us cares. Instead, his fingers press into me, flexing and curling, his thumb brushing over my clit, my orgasm barreling down on me with the same speed as the musicians we just watched.
“Please, oh shit, please,” I mutter, Jansen’s other hand slinking under my bra and circling the stiff peak of my nipple.
