Dirty Dream Page 2

  Chapter 3

  Alright Atlanta, how about we kick it up a notch?”

  The fans roar in agreement, and as I lean back on my couch, I watch Keith, in all his high-definition glory, work the twenty-thousand fans in Georgia State Stadium. He’s a study in contrasts, a sweet-smiling charm any girl would take home to mama, but with a patchwork of tattoos that speak to an inner bad boy any dad would hate.

  “Well then, how about a little number I call Short Shorts And Tall Boots? Ooh, I think I might see a few of those out here tonight…” Keith asks as another roar erupts from the crowd. I grin at my screen as Keith shades his eyes, scanning the crowd and pointing at a few female fans. The guitar starts up, and while it’s not quite classic country, it works in a party new-country sort of way. I don’t think Alan Jackson ever got quite as explicit as “Let me see that bottom bit, you know it drives me wild; make it bounce up and down, you ain’t your mama’s child,” but the crowd eats it up. As the camera almost dizzyingly scans the crowd, I can see a mix of men and women, old and young, from every group and background, a testament to Keith’s wide appeal.

  It’s an open and real vibe, even through my screen. As Keith moves from a romping booty shaker song to a sadder song about loss, or touches on social issues with his latest hit ‘Children of Our Hearts’, it’s pure and honest, with people experiencing the joy, the peace, the sorrow of each song. The rawness is touching, and even though I’m yawning by the time he wraps up the encore, I’ve got to say, I’ve enjoyed my ‘research’.

  “Mmm, this might be my favorite assignment ever,” I tell myself as I turn off my laptop and head to my bedroom, switching out my comfy sweats for PJ boyshorts before falling into bed.

  My mind trails off, thinking about the next few days of following Keith and how I’m going to do it successfully, finding dirt without making him suspicious. But the image in my brain keeps reshaping . . . his smile, his biceps, his butt, the emotion on his face as he sings a love song. It’s just one of those accepted facts. Grass is green, water is wet, and Keith Perkins is sexy as fuck. I’m going to have to work hard to maintain my journalist's objectiveness, or I risk fucking this up. And that's a risk I can't afford to take.

  Suitably chastised by my own responsible half, I let the sexy swagger, soulful voice, and sparking eyes take over my mind as I drift off. Responsibility can wait until tomorrow.

  Chapter 4

  The summer night’s warm and humid, the sort of night that only the Deep South can bring, where the air itself clings to your skin and your lungs feel like they’re drinking more than breathing.

  Not that I’m breathing right now. I’m holding my breath in anticipation, the bright lights dazzling me as the smoke spews from the back of the stage. And then . . . there he is! He vaults into the air, one hand wrapped around the neck of his guitar like a lover’s embrace and the other holding his cowboy hat on his head. He lands gracefully, absorbing the powerful impact with long, thick legs before strutting down the ramp, all six foot and some odd inches of him moving with an easy confidence. His smile flashes out as the band riffs away in a sexy beat that soon has my heart thumping along to match it.

  “How’re you doing tonight, ladies?” he asks, flirting with the crowd. I look around, suddenly realizing that all I see around me are other women. Every shade of skin tone and hair color. Every age, size, and shape . . . there’s thousands of women all cheering and reaching out, wanting Keith.

  He grins, tipping his cowboy hat as their screams of approval reach a fever pitch. “Well, I’m mighty glad to see y’all too,” he says with a smile as he adjusts the guitar strap around his back. “This concert is a bit different than what I usually do, so how about we start off with something special?”

  The guitar notes are different, and it takes me a moment to recognize it, it’s one of Keith’s lesser known hits . . . but as he takes his position behind the microphone to start Lookin’ For A Lady, I’m singing along with every word.

  “Late night,

  all alone,

  waitin’ by,

  the telephone,

  can’t take no more,

  gotta get out on the town,

  gonna tear it up a little,

  gonna see what’s going down.

  I’m lookin’ for some action,

  I’m lookin for some fun,

  gotta find myself a lady,

  and do it until it’s all done…”

  The flirty, slightly dirty lyrics leave everyone screaming as Keith breaks out into his guitar solo, the twangy acoustic tearing it up just as much as any metalhead ever could.

  I’m hopping up and down, a total fangirl as I scream out his name, and his eyes find me from the stage. Smirking, he blows me a kiss that seems to tear through the air and hit me on the lips, igniting my body and making my already damp pussy catch fire.

  The first song ends, and Keith takes the mic again. “Well now, you ladies certainly sound like my type . . . but I’m looking for just one tonight. Let’s see what the songman can find for himself.”

  He starts again, strumming his guitar as he fades into a slower song. The backup band takes over as Keith strides the stage, and suddenly he’s squatting directly in front of me, reaching out with a powerful hand as he looks directly in my eyes. “Come on . . . I don’t bite unless you want me to,” he says off mic in a purring growl than sends flutters through my stomach to my pussy. “I guarantee you’ll enjoy yourself.”

  My fingers feel numb as I nod, taking Keith’s hand, his fingers enveloping mine and easily helping me onto the stage. The crowd noise dims as I’m caught in his orbit. He leads me to the center of the stage and begins playing his guitar again.

  “The night wraps around us . . .” he starts, and for the next four minutes, I’m surrounded by his seductive voice, his eyes, and his presence as he sings to me about desire, passion, and things that leave my knees quivering and my pussy clenching in my skirt. “…until we can’t take any more.”

  The last note drifts away into the summer night, and Keith takes my hand, kissing the back of my knuckles gently. “Now, you get to have a very special seat for the rest of the show. Thanks for playing along.”

  A stagehand leads me to the edge of the stage, and I watch in rapt attention as Keith sings the last three songs of the show. From this perspective, I can see him giving me looks, sideways glances that don’t interrupt his performance but include me as he sings to the crowd. The heat in my core builds with every look, every note, every vibrating chord he plays. As the last song ends, the stagehand takes my hand, and for a moment I think it’s over, but he leads me backstage to a dressing room.

  As soon as the door’s closed, I look around. Walking over to the big makeup mirror, I see my eyes are huge and round, shock apparent in their blue depths. I reach out for one of the bottles of champagne, pop the top, and chug the chilled beverage in a desperate attempt to quench the heat inside me and calm my racing heart.

  “You know, most people sip at that . . . considering it’s ninety dollars a bottle.”

  I choke, spitting out the last half-mouthful as I hear Keith behind me. He came in so quietly I didn’t even notice, or maybe it’s because my ears are still roaring from the show. Wiping my mouth as delicately as possible considering the unladylike behavior I was just indulging in, I turn around. He’s leaned against the closed dressing room door, one cowboy boot propped up as he takes off his hat and smiles in amusement. He looks . . . hot. There’s probably a better word, but I’m reduced to one syllable grunts, even in my mind at this point.

  “Sorry,” I sputter, feeling the heat flush my cheeks. “I didn’t realize how thirsty I was until the first sip. I didn’t see any water . . .”

  “They always put those bottles out for me. And they almost always get wasted, so I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” Keith says easily, pushing off the door and crossing the room. “I hope you didn’t drink yourself drunk though.”

  No, I’ve felt drunk from the first moment
you touched my hand, I think, but shake my head. “No, I’m feeling okay. Thank you for bringing me onstage.”

  Keith gestures to the couch, offering me a seat. “I do it most concerts, although this one was both easier and harder.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, huge crowd for one. But as soon as I saw you, everyone else just sort of faded away,” he says as I sit down. His sexy rumble sends fresh heat through my body, and I find myself biting my lip, trying not to just jump him like a horny bitch in heat.

  “And do you often invite them backstage?”

  “Sometimes, but only for a special selfie and maybe an autograph. You’re the first I’ve had invited to my dressing room,” Keith admits. “I hope you don’t mind me being so forward.”

  I smile, shaking my head. “Why would I be upset? It was an offer, not a demand.”

  We chat, about everything and nothing, the two of us moving closer as we get more comfortable with each other. There’s this magnetic pull, a chemistry that seems to create sparks between us as Keith reaches out, taking a lock of my hair in between his fingers and teasing it around his thumb.

  He murmurs, his voice low, “You could get me in so much trouble. But something tells me you’d be worth it. Are you?”

  I hear the challenge, and his words enflame me even more. I move closer, feeling the heat radiating off of him. He’s still slick with sweat from his concert, his shirt sticking to his chest like a second skin. I know I’m probably glowing with sweat too because I feel like I’m on fucking fire from the inside. “Maybe I can think of something so you won’t get in trouble . . . just a little something for a fan.”

  “What did you have in mind?” Keith asks, his eyes studying my face. “A selfie?”

  “I was thinking maybe you could autograph something for me,” I reply spreading my legs slightly and letting my skirt ride up. “But I don’t have a pen. Do you?”

  Keith nods, leaning in and suddenly, we’re kissing, his lips hot on my wet skin, his tongue tasting the sweat along my neck and sipping at it like it’s the nectar of the gods. “Fuck, I’ve wanted to taste you since I laid eyes on you,” Keith growls, pulling me into his lap. “Your skin is like silk.”

  I moan, throwing my head back to give him more access as I feel the hard ridge in his jeans press against my panty-covered mound. I’m wearing some of my ‘bad girl’ panties, slick silk that feels wonderful as I roll my hips, my pussy grinding against him as he kisses down my neck to the V of my blouse before pulling back.

  “Why’d you stop?” I ask, looking down at Keith as he grins. He wraps his arms tighter around me, picking me up and carrying me like a feather across the dressing room to sit on the makeup table. Grabbing the half-empty bottle of champagne, Keith takes a swig before offering it to me.

  “You look thirsty . . . and I know I am.”

  Keith takes another swig and kisses me hard, his tongue invading my mouth and letting the bubbly swirl between us. I moan, tugging at his shirt as he helps me, the two of us unbuttoning our tops until I’m in just my bra and skirt, and Keith’s in his jeans. I look at his chiseled physique, my body throbbing with need as I watch his chest and arms ripple with muscle. Fuck he’s built, and based off the bulge in his jeans . . . he’s just as big downstairs as he is above the waist.

  “I’m still thirsty,” Keith growls, leaning me back and deftly removing my bra. He takes the bottle and pours, champagne splashing over my skin and bubbles popping, tickling and tantalizing. I gasp as he devours my breasts, licking and sucking hard before his tongue finds my right nipple and strokes across it, sending fireworks shooting through my vision.

  “Oh fuck, oh don’t stop,” I moan, scratching at his broad shoulders. Keith moans, biting my nipple and causing my pussy to spasm. “Fuck . . . fuck me . . . god I need you to fuck me.”

  Keith pulls back, lifting me off the table to look into his eyes. “I need you too. I want you to see this. Turn around.”

  I spin in place to see the triple mirrors of the makeup table cast back the sexy image we make from almost every angle. My eyes are wide, my breasts are full with achingly hard nipples and Keith is wide and powerful behind me. I bend forward, grasping the edge of the table and watching in the mirror as Keith’s eyes track my movements. He lifts my skirt and pulls down my panties, his breath teasing at my entrance for a moment before he stands back up, pocketing the silk. “I thought you were going to sign those for me?”

  “Those are mine. But I might leave my mark on this sweet ass if you ask nicely.” Keith teases as he unbuttons his jeans. The position obscures his cock from my view, even with the mirrors, but I can feel the heat of him as he presses against me, the head of his cock sliding between the lips of my pussy and up to my clit. “Mmm, that’s it, get me nice and wet so I can slip right in.”

  Keith pulls back, his impossibly strong hands holding my waist as he thrusts forward, his cock sinking into my pussy and making me clench around his massive girth. “Ohh!” I groan, my eyes rolling up. “Fuck, you’re big!”

  “You’re taking me just fine, baby,” Keith growls, letting go of my waist to reach up and cup my breasts. “Look in the mirror, watch me fuck you.”

  He doesn’t even need to tell me, my eyes are already transfixed as he pulls back, and while I don’t have the same view he does, I can feel how wide my pussy is stretched by his thickness, how far he has to pull back before he slides in again. He’s so deep I can’t believe he’s not splitting me in half, and it feels so good. “Oh, fuck yes . . . do that again.”

  Keith speeds up, pumping in and out of me, the head of his cock rubbing over my deepest spots and sending lightning jolts up my spine. “That’s it, squeeze my big cock just like that,” Keith grunts, keeping his rhythm. He tugs on my nipples, making me whine in pain and pleasure at the roughness. Just the way I like it. “Take me. Massage my cock with your tight little pussy.”

  I moan, looking up into to his eyes in the mirror as I squeeze him. I grin. “Pound my fucking pussy. Give it to me rough. I can take it.”

  “Think you can handle me?” Keith challenges with a grunt. His hips are slapping against my ass as he hammers into me, grabbing my shoulders to pull me tight against him and grind inside me. I watch everything in the mirror, the impact of both feeling it and watching it building me higher and higher.

  “That’s it . . . oh fuck . . . yes, fuck me,” I cry, dissolving into a litany of begging to be fucked harder, pushing him for more. Keith gives a burst of quick thrusts, perfect in their intensity and overwhelming my senses. I can feel him swell inside me. “Yesss . . .”

  My orgasm hits like a bolt of lightening, rocking my body and making me throw my head back as my eyes close, lost to the pleasure. At the same time, Keith slams deep in my core, his cock exploding inside me and filling me with jet after jet of his hot cum.

  My body tightens, and I can’t believe I’m doing this. We just met, but it feels so right.

  “Keith,” I groan, squeezing my pussy around him and milking him for every precious drop. “God, you’re fucking amazing.”

  “We’re not done,” he promises me, gathering me into his arms and stretching my body out so that I glow in the light of the makeup mirror. He looks at me from over my shoulder, one hand resting on my stomach as the other rests on top of my right breast. “Trust me . . . I’m going to fuck you every way you’ve ever wanted and leave you fully, totally wrung out by the end.”

  He’s still hard inside me, ready to make good on his words. He reaches down my thigh, lifting it and I follow his lead, lifting both legs to plant my feet wide on the table. I’m treated to the sight of his cock stretching my pussy, and I groan at the thickness I can now see and feel. I watch as he reaches around to rub a finger across my clit in a slow circle, using our combined juices to tease me. It’s obscene and glorious . . . spread wide, impaled on his cock, as his fingers pick up the pace, and I almost can’t look away. But I need to tell him, want him to do it. Leaning back against his shoulder
, I turn to kiss him again. “You can fuck me all night, any way you like, but what I most want is-“

  Chapter 5

  Bzzt! Bzzt! Bzzt!

  I jerk awake with a start, looking towards the offending noise. I reach over, slamming my fist down on top of my clock radio, desperately wanting the buzzing to stop. Instead, I manage to turn the radio on, an old school song blaring out “…I once got busy in a…”

  Hearing a crunch, I sit up and see that I’ve broken the snooze button and cracked the display . . . my third this year.

  “It’s what you get for buying your damn alarm clock at Dollar Tree,” I remind myself as I check to see if it still works. The minute ticks over, and the radio still seems to work, although things sound a little warbly. To hell with it, it’ll still work until my next wakeup punch.

  “What a dream,” I murmur to myself as I get out of bed. Today’s the hardest part of my assignment, and as I head to the shower, the sticky feeling as I peel off my PJs reminds me of the heat of my dream.

  I can’t believe it, really. I’ve never, in my entire life, come from a dream before, but the evidence is unavoidable. My panties are still soaked and I still feel hot as fuck. I came and came hard dreaming about Keith Perkins, and as I lift my hand up to check . . . yep, seems I was doing a little extra rubbing in my sleep that certainly helped things along.

  “Face it, it’s not like I’ve had a lot of other action recently,” I remind my reflection. “Now let’s get ready to work.”

  The shower’s warm and welcome spray helps drive the last vestiges of sleep from my body, although the water flowing over my breasts reminds me of the champagne from my dream and how fucking good Keith’s mouth felt as he consumed my breasts. I’ve always loved having a man licking my body, and dream-Keith did it in a unique and memorable way. It makes me wonder how he’d lick other parts of me.

  For a second, I consider letting that fantasy play out in my mind for one more round this morning, but I really do need to get ready if I’m going to be on time. Greedy girl, I guess that’ll have to wait.