tagRomanceSummer Song

Summer Song

byTenderBottom©

Hello! Thanks for all your past input. It's been awhile. I know I promised to write more and I have. Just not here. I managed to get three novellas published with The Wild Rose Press this year in their erotic division. (If you'd like to read them, feel free to contact me.)

This story is for those who are interested in something visceral and heady. It is the first-time meeting of two people who feel that instant connection and act on it. I'm entering it in the SUMMER LOVIN CONTEST 2018 and would love your comments and vote.

*

He had a resonating voice, older than his age, until he sang. Then it all changed. It became clear and fluid with a lyrical thickness. It rolled into me, especially when his emotions edged into a ragged quality as the ballad continued. I don't think it was the drink I tipped back so quickly to quench the summer heat. Travelling through the back street behind the beach shops, I wanted a break from all the quaint tea shops and outdoor bars that my college girlfriends had been dragging me to this week. They didn't expect me back to our cottage rental for hour or three, having split up and gone shopping themselves.

Hanging my shades on my tank top, I had stepped into the bar just as he took to the microphone. It was early evening and the bar looked cool and dark, far more inviting than another brightly-lit store with fleece wear, taffy, earrings and hats. Not that I minded it. Not at all, toying with my own newly purchased silver-drop earrings, after twisting my sun-bleached brown hair up in a makeshift bun.

Drink in hand, I stood to the side near the AC, letting my breathing deepen. I was mesmerized, drawn to the intricate guitar melodies, unsure how my drink disappeared. I could blame it on the anonymity and relief to the blinding sun, but it was sweet lull of his rich voice that almost instantly drew me to a less self-conscious state. The ice rattled in my empty glass as I held it to my neck, and rolled it on my upper chest, letting the delicious cold condensation drip down my cleavage.

The song rolled to an end with a tenor notes holding tight to a crescendo of release. I stood in awe, my trance lifted only by the applause around me. I was the only one not clapping! He seemed to look right at me with a questioning expression falling on his face. Embarrassment sent a prickling blush up my face. I tried to cover by raising my empty glass with a nod of appreciation. Then it happened. That smile.

That heart throbbing smile--- hazel eyes crinkled with long lashes. His smile was framed in a beard. His hair was something between blond and brown, his beard a shade darker. But his smile, so bright, in contrast to the song he just finished.

"Have a seat, I won't bite... hard." He said to me and nodded to a tall bar stool across the bar. I could feel his gaze follow me.

The titters around me make me move quickly. I pulled myself up onto the bar seat, my shorts threatened to ride up enough to have my cheeks stick. I might be slim but my short height made tall bar stools tricky to master gracefully, but thankfully I slid on, and my baseball cap on the bar counter. I turned to face him, only to find he was looking right at me. More like through me, since it cut into me as his voice did.

Did he just mouth, "for you?" I found a second drink in front of me. Maybe he meant the drink. Did I smile my thank you to him or did I just stare in wide-eyed wonder?

He spoke as he re-tuned his guitar. I tried to focus on his words but failed. All I heard was his deep voice, tender now, somehow matching the ripple of his muscled forearm, tattoo only partly showing from his rolled-up sleeve. A song request was made. He spoke of moving on from love lost, something I did a few months back. In truth I had been lying to myself. I hadn't moved on, not enough. I seem to find a way to slip away from the invitations that came my way. That's partly why my girlfriends were dragging me out bar hopping as much as they did this week. Little did they know I would just as soon play female "wingman" than find someone new. Or worse, I could find someone like my drone-voiced, snobby ex.

My attention focused back on the musician. He smiled a gentler smile and began to sing. Oh, his voice! It seemed to encircle me, moving me as it resonated within me. The cooling from scorching summer heat, lost when his voice added another different level of heat. I wanted to kiss those lips. I wanted to break the cycle. I wanted to touch him and have his arms pull me into him. That smile formed on his lips again. Could he read my thoughts? Was I that transparent?

I rolled an ice cube in my mouth, but that did nothing to cool me. Each breath deeper. It must be the drink. I pushed it away and mouthed "coke" to the bartender who seemed to hover near me.

"It is," he mouthed back with a snicker on his lips.

I tipped back another gulp and turned back to the singer, now drinking in the way his expressive brows added to the emotional impact of the lyrics. He tilted his face up dreamily and looked straight at me, as if he were only singing to me, as if he were waiting for me.

A visceral sensation rolled into me. I felt those ripples. The ones that formed with a moan--- after I reached that point where I needed more. Craved more. I craved him. A stranger with a guitar in a strange bar. I wanted him buried deep inside me. What was I thinking?

Again, I was snapped back out of my wandering, pulsing thoughts by the applause. Again, I forgot to clap. I fumbled for my glass to raise in a salute to him. I raised it halfway, abashed and cringing at my own faux pas.

"I'll get her to applaud yet, won't I?" The growing crowd whooped their appreciation.

"She seems a bit shy," he offered up on the mic in response.

"She's a cute one, Ian," someone shouted.

"Yeah, she's hot," another called out.

"We're all hot," came the answer.

"Not that kind of hot you numb nuts." Some jostling started.

When had the bar gotten this crowded? I was becoming uncomfortable as the subject of the crowd. Noticing, Ian tipped his head, and mouthed, "sorry." He cut off any further comments leaning into the mic, "Well, come on in out of the heat, everyone. Get settled before the real band starts. I'm just the volunteer. Would you mind if I played one more song before I have to relinquish the mic?"

"Play a dozen!" a woman shouted from the other side.

A man answered her, "He can't. He needs to make his move."

His friend elbowed him. "Now who's the numb nuts? You're going to ruin his game."

"Ian doesn't have game."

Ian shook his head at the laughter, his face twinging with red. He looked up straight at me, chuckling, "You be the judge, pretty one, won't you?"

I felt the heat of my blush deepen. I winced at the bar's attention but found a huge grin on my lips and nodded, whispering, "yes."

"What'd she say?"

"Yes. She nodded yes. So, it better be a good one."

"Here goes..."

He strummed a few chords, almost a medley of songs, before settling on an easy crowd pleaser, "You're too good to be true. Can't take my eyes off of you..."

"Cornball!" came a shout from the back.

"Shhh. Let the cornball sing."

He sang through the song, motioning the growing crowd to join on the third go around. Soon everyone was singing happily, many throwing their off-key voices my way. "I need you baby... oh pretty baby, now that I found you, stay..." I covered my face, laughing. With the last chorus, he hushed the room, singing solo again. God, he was gorgeous as his voice soared with emotion. Had he become even more handsome? He wasn't the tallest in the bar nor the most buff... but somehow, I knew he was for me, beard and all.

He put down the guitar, pulling the mic from the stand as he continued to sing. The crowd parted, allowing him to move closer. There he was, just above eye level to me as I sat on the high stool. The hazel of his eyes cut deep, his voice thickened. And, there it was, that twinge inside me. That glorious, scary, twinge of hunger, pouring through my veins, as he sang the last line and whispered it in his voice, "let me love yooouuuOOoo."

I forgot to clap. I didn't need to. I touched his face, drawing him to me, and without another thought, kissed those lips I craved. Delicious sweet but short-lived relief. It was his turn to forget to move or speak. Before I could take the next breath, I felt his arms press me firmly to him and he kissed me. Hard. His kiss lengthened, with the raspy groan that first made me step into the bar. Tendrils of heat radiated in me and fill my veins with fire.

Oh, how I wanted more of this. Of his arms, his kiss. He felt so right. I forgot we were in the bar until I heard someone call out, "I can't see. Did she approve?"

The burly voice called back, "Not sure. They're too busy making out."

Cheers erupted. Impossible to ignore, our kiss broke. He slid my hand into his. His finger sensually caressed my palm. I felt shivers cascade in me as he slid me from my bar stool. He stepped to the stage, my hand in his, grabbed his guitar and leaned over to someone. He motioned to his equipment. A nod came as response.

With the dying clamor, he repositioned the mic, and said a quick thank you, bowing with a grin as he held up his hands, mine still locked in his. Whoops of applause followed in response.

"Go Ian! I told you he had it," said the earlier voice.

"Lucky bastard."

With a guitar in one hand, mine in his other, we wove through the bar patrons, often getting congrats as we made our way to the door. "Are we going somewhere?" I found courage to ask.

He shook his head no. My heart dropped.

But there was that smile. "Not before I learn your name."

I told him my name. Ashlee. He kissed me again, his hands wove into my makeshift bun, setting my hair free. "Ashlee, we have a lot to talk about... before..." His eyebrow rose. "...and after. Especially after."

*****

Ashlee broke from our afterglow first, tugging the sheet with her to the bathroom. Why do women do that? I had touched, massaged, kissed or bit every inch of her quivering body. My fingers untangled those silky strands which had twisted into knots after I rolled her over a second time.

God, she felt good. Heat bathing our skin, the windows giving no breeze. I didn't care. She smelled of ocean and sweetness, tasted of lemon and coke and when I sank down and pressed her legs apart, I was greeted with a tiny trimmed patch of auburn hair. So that brown, honey-streaked hair of hers was her own! So smooth, so wet for me before I did little more than bite her inner thigh. I left a mark. I know I did. I was hungry for her. I cut my guitar set short just to hurry her away. I lied, telling her I wanted to know more of her. That wasn't a lie. But I wanted to do it like we did. Naked with my condom wrapped cock filing her.

God, I'm hard again even though the last go around was what? Looking at the clock, an hour? A half hour ago? Did we fall asleep? It wasn't for long. It couldn't be. Turning over I leaned back on the pillows and crossed my legs, looking up to my ceiling. Street lights streamed colors in onto my ceiling, mixing with shadows of the trees. Beach town USA. You could almost read the neon of the signs for beer brands and taffy. My ex hated that and would pull the shades tight and blast the AC. I felt claustrophobic. Looking back, I always felt tense with her. Not like with Ashlee. She was so free. She was a song in woman form.

I listened to the waterfall of my shower and imagined the suds glistening on her touchable, smooth skin. I closed my eyes reliving how I devoured her. How she cried out and the urge I felt when I ground deep so deep into her. I almost worried that I would hurt her when her mouth went slack. But no. Her body shook and her walls clenched so tight that I couldn't pull my cock free. Not that I wanted to. Locked together, I let her wave recede before rocking back and thrusting into her. Faster and faster. Chords rolled in my head and the rhythm made me explode with mind-blinding fire.

"Ian?"

My eyes popped open. I followed her gaze down to my naked pelvis. She sat on the edge of the bed, wrapped in my towel.

"Whatcha thinking?" She asked with an eyebrow arched and grin plastered on her face which was streaked with the reflection of a palm tree store sign.

I smiled as she stared at my erection. The truth just spilled out of me. "I was thinking about you and how I was never with someone like you. Ever. You are my summer song and I'm never letting you go." I grabbed her and rolled her over me onto her back. Leaning up on my elbow, cupped her cheek and kissed her. Hard, long and deep. "TMI? Too much?"

Her face was flushed, gray-blue eyes wide. Her breathing was deep. Silence cut into me, all the more so as the towel exposed her perfectly petite but grabbable sweet breasts. I stroked her face, willing my heart not to shatter and my confidence not to crumble. How stupid was I to do the rookie move of moving too fast?!

Her shoulders relaxed. She finally shook her head and spoke. "With you? It seems never too much." She kissed me tenderly and then a full-on smile took over her beautiful face. "But I do applaud your effort."

That earned a tickle and kiss to her neck.

"Stop. Wait. If we're starting up again, at least let me text my girlfriends to say I'll be late in getting back."

"You already did that." I gave her more tickles. The more her breasts jiggled, the harder I got. Again.

"Uncle. Stop." More giggles. "Halten. Desist." She pushed me to arm's length.

I stopped and leaned over her, let her catch her breath, both of us grinning.

"I'll let my friends know I'll be back late... tomorrow. Is that okay?"

I told her yes. But it wasn't. Tomorrow wasn't enough. I would find a way for my summer song to stay.

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by Anonymous

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by Anonymous09/11/18

Killing me Softly?

Very well told fantasy. I liked the device of having both tell part of the story.
Say "so what?" to the criticism. Stories don't have to be realistic.
R.

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by Overcritical08/27/18

Too bad...

The world doesn't really work that way. Summer doesn't last forever and May and December relationships don't last either. But for a few minutes it's nice to think it's possible. 4* for trying.

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by Anonymous08/27/18

More please

Love the mood and feel of this story. It carries a sensuality with it. Heady only begins to describe it. Please keep writing!

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