Sinners on Tour Page 6

  She lifted her hips, and Brian fell free of her body.

  “Uh,” he gasped. “No. They can get along without me.”

  “Sweetheart,” she said, “it’s okay. You need to get ready for the concert. We’ll pick up with this later. Your music is important. I understand. Really.”

  “It’s not okay. Being with you is more important right now.”

  “It makes me happy to hear you say that.” She lowered her eyes and smiled sweetly.

  Brian almost choked on his tongue. Myrna Evans, erm, Sinclair, was openly admitting that his sentimental drivel made her happy? Oh God, there was no way he could concentrate on anything but making love to her now.

  He reached for her, but she climbed from the bed. “I’ll catch up with you backstage,” she said and went to the closet and tugged out one of her skirt suits.

  She chose the trim navy blue one and a silky pink top to wear underneath. Brian groaned. The woman knew what seeing her in conservative attire did to him and how much he liked knowing what she was wearing underneath. Tonight it was nothing but thigh-high stockings. Mercy. She pulled the silky top over her head and the fabric clung to the erect buds of her bare nipples. Oh God, she wasn’t wearing a bra tonight either? Fuck him. Fuck him all to hell. He’d never make it through a concert with that knowledge rattling around in his brain.

  Myrna’s skirt quickly hid her sexy ass from view, and then she shrugged into her suit jacket.

  “Get dressed, baby,” she said gently. “I’ll catch up with you backstage.”

  “Yeah, I heard you the first time.” He climbed from the bed and pulled up his pants.

  “But I don’t think you understood that it meant I’d be fucking you senseless when I caught up with you.”

  She dropped the bombshell without fuss, as if she were telling him they were having eggplant for dinner.

  She slipped into a pair of three-inch heels, exited the room without a backwards glance, and left Brian staring at the door with his mouth agape and his dick hard and his thoughts swirling with images of being fucked senseless.

  When he finally remembered that he was supposed to be dealing with band bullshit, he pulled on the tight black T-shirt he planned to wear onstage that night. He had a more difficult time buttoning his jeans over his stiff cock. His difficulty wasn’t due to his cock being damp with Myrna’s juices. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. The reason it was so painfully hard was because it was still damp with Myrna’s juices, which served as a delicious reminder of the feel of her tight pussy gripping him. So it actually was her fault that his dick’s perpetual rigidity was putting a horrible strain on the buttons of his fly. This called for a cold lap-bath in the nearest sink. Poor mistreated dick. She’d better make this up to him and soon.

  Ten minutes later, Brian found Sinners’ front-of-house soundboard operator, Dave, cussing up a storm backstage inside the arena. When Dave noticed Brian, he looked like he’d just witnessed an angel descend from the heavens. A guitar was shoved into Brian’s hands, and he spent almost an hour working with Dave to fix some feedback problem Brian swore was imaginary. He didn’t hear it at all. Even if it did exist, Brian wasn’t sure why one of the roadies wasn’t a suitable replacement for strumming and adjusting and strumming some more.

  “No one sounds like you,” Dave explained, when Brian started to get antsy and tried pawning off strum-duty on their mohawk-sporting roadie, Jake.

  When Dave was finally satisfied the nonexistent feedback had been squelched, he let Brian go and started having a coronary over one of Eric’s off-sounding bass drums. Dave wasn’t typically this high-strung, so his agitation must have had something to do with being in the company of Exodus End’s legendary soundboard operator, Mad Dog McFarley. The dude looked like a startled bulldog, but he was second to none in mixing a live show. Dave kept wandering over to Mad Dog’s soundboard and peeking over his shoulder, as if trying to photograph top-secret documents with an implanted eye-cam.

  Brian shook his head, trusting that the guy would keep his shit together for the show.

  He headed toward the dressing room, hoping that Myrna would “catch up” with him soon. He couldn’t think of anything but getting lost in her for twenty or thirty hours. As he passed a door, a graceful hand reached out and grabbed him by the T-shirt, tugging him into the dark confines of a closet. She found his mouth in the darkness, pressing her naked body against his. Brian grabbed her bare ass before it dawned on him that several things weren’t right. More specifically, that her ass was in the wrong place; it was several inches too low. And she didn’t taste like Myrna. Didn’t smell like Myrna. Wasn’t Myrna. He shoved the unfamiliar woman away and reached for the doorknob to escape.

  The woman was surprisingly strong as she wrapped both arms around his waist and pulled him away from the door.

  “Don’t deny me this, Master Sinclair. I want you so bad.”

  “Let go,” he demanded, trying to pry her iron grip from his waist.

  “Just let me suck your cock. Please.”

  Her needy voice made his skin crawl. “I said let go. I don’t want to have to get rough with you.”

  She’d somehow managed to get his belt buckle unfastened. He covered his crotch with one hand and tried to fend her off with the other.

  The woman emitted a throaty chuckle. “I want you to get rough with me. Leave marks on my skin. Nail me hard as fuck so that my pussy remembers you in the morning.”

  She grabbed his ass, and his balls tried to climb up into his belly. There wasn’t anything about this attempted seduction that turned him on in the slightest. Brian managed to get a hand on the doorknob again and opened the door. His gaze was lowered toward the floor, but the space at his feet wasn’t empty. He’d recognize those high heels and shapely calves anywhere.

  “Myrna,” he gasped, a lump of cold lead settling in his stomach. His head jerked up automatically. “This isn’t what it looks like.”

  “So there isn’t a naked woman plastered to your back with her hand on your crotch? You aren’t coming out of a dark closet with your belt unbuckled?”

  “No,” he denied.

  “I’m not blind, Brian.”

  “I mean yes, but—”

  “Nor am I stupid,” she added.

  He forced his gaze to hold hers, but she looked away and glared at the woman accosting him.

  “Get your fucking hands off my husband,” she said.

  Her uncompromising tone made the hairs on the back of Brian’s neck stand on end.

  “Your husband?” the woman gasped.

  “Yes, my husband. Mine. Get the fuck away from him.”

  “I didn’t know—When did he—Well, how was I suppo—Just let me get my clothes.”

  The woman moved away from Brian’s back, and he stepped outside the small, dark room. She closed the door quietly.

  “Honestly, Myrna, I was trying to get away from her. There’s no way I would have done anything with her. She just grabbed me when I walked past the door.”

  “I trust you.”

  “I would never destroy what we have over something so stupid.”

  “Brian, I trust you. Chill.”

  Myrna slid into his arms.

  “You do?” His body melted against hers with relief.

  “Of course. Do I have a reason not to?”

  “No. All I want is you.” They’d just danced to a song with those exact words as the title. Surely she knew he meant what he said.

  She lifted a hand to cup his cheek. “I feel exactly the same way.”

  He kissed her, his soul buoyant with joy.

  The door behind him opened again and naked-chick, now mostly clothed, brushed past them as she fled. Still kissing him, Myrna walked Brian backwards into the empty closet and shut the door.

  “I’ll have to thank your groupie for pointing out this place,” she said. “I wondered how I was going to get you alone backstage. I had settled on a bathroom stall, but the last time we tried that, it didn’t end
well.”

  Brian laughed. “It ended well for me.” He laughed again and squeezed her in a tight embrace. “But not so well for my lucky hat.”

  “Or Eric.”

  “Every time he wears that hat, I think I’m going to bust a gut trying not to laugh.”

  “Less talking. More satisfying kisses.”

  She clung to his shoulders. In the darkness, her kiss landed on his chin. She nibbled her way to his lips and caressed them with deep sucking kisses. As she warmed, her scent—a sweet combination of coconut, sex, and Myrna—intensified, blotting the scent of antiseptic cleanser coming from somewhere in the closet.

  She nipped Brian’s lower lip. Lust slammed into his gut, hot and heavy. He moved his hands to her ass—which was in exactly the right location, thank you very much—and ground her pelvis against his rapidly engorging cock. He’d just got the damned thing under control, and hoped to God she wasn’t going to leave him unsatisfied again. He wasn’t sure he’d survive.

  “How long before you have to be onstage?” she asked breathlessly.

  She tugged impatiently at his hair—her signal that she needed to be penetrated quickly. It was one of his favorite signals. Second only to the gaspy moan she made in the back of her throat when she was close to orgasm.

  “I’m not sure. Twenty minutes or so.”

  “Are you hot for me?”

  “Yeah, of course. I’m always hot for you.” He wished he could see her. Read her expression. The closet was completely devoid of light; he could scarcely make out the hairline crack under the door.

  “Tell me what you want to do to me,” she whispered and caught his bottom lip between her teeth again, this time tugging until it slipped free. She was feeling frisky, was she?

  “I want to let your hair down,” he said, sliding both hands up her back to press her more firmly against his chest. Something about getting it on with her while she was dressed in a conservative skirt suit always did it for him. Maybe because she was the only woman he’d ever known to wear suits.

  “That’s it?” she whispered.

  “I want to let your hair down, so I can wrap it around my fist while I fuck you from behind.”

  Her breath caught.

  “Are you wet?”

  “Getting that way.”

  He found the clip at the back of her head and released her hair. It dropped around her shoulders, covering his free hand in a curtain of silk. He carefully gathered it in one hand and wrapped it around his fist to tug it evenly, so it wouldn’t hurt. Much. He yanked, and Myrna gasped.

  “Did I hurt you?” he asked, heart thudding. That wasn’t his intention. Rough didn’t have to hurt.

  “N-no. Fuck me, Brian.”

  “Pull your skirt up around your waist.”

  She moved away slightly. He heard the rustle of her clothes. He gave her hair another tug and then lowered his hand to make sure she’d obeyed him. His hand found the smooth skin of her bare ass.

  “Touch your cunt.”

  “You touch it,” she said.

  He tugged her hair more aggressively. “Don’t disobey me. I’m in control here. Slide your fingers inside that pussy and tell me how wet you are.”

  The back of her hand brushed his fly as she moved to obey him. He gritted his teeth so he didn’t reveal how turned on he was. She needed to think he was in control here. Good thing it was dark so she couldn’t see his expression; he knew it revealed his deep longing. When the sound of her wet flesh accepting her fingers reached his ears, his belly tightened with need.

  “Are you wet?” he asked gruffly.

  “Y-yes.”

  “Are your juices dripping down the insides of your thighs?”

  “Almost.”

  “Rub yourself until they do. I want that cunt hot and wet before I fuck it.”

  “Brian?” she pleaded.

  He tightened his hand in her hair. “Do it.”

  The sounds of her fingers rapidly stroking her flesh had his balls aching in seconds.

  “That’s it, baby. Get ready for me.”

  He released her hair so he could move behind her. He unfastened his pants and jerked them down to his knees. His cock pulsed with excitement the instant he freed it.

  Myrna crooned with impending release.

  “Are you wet now?”

  “Yes… Oh God, yes. I’m going to—”

  He slapped her ass with a resounding smack.

  “Did I say you could make yourself come? No coming unless I’m inside you. Understand?”

  “Y-yes,” she gasped.

  Fumbling in the dark, he gathered her hair in his fist again. With his other hand he sought her hand, which was still working between her legs. He captured her wrist and shifted her fingers from her pussy to her clit.

  “Rub that greedy clit while I fuck you. Don’t stop rubbing until I come. I don’t care how many times you get off between now and then. Keep rubbing it.”

  “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, Brian,” she said in a low voice.

  He hesitated. Maybe he was being too bossy. He loosened his hold on her hair.

  “I don’t know what’s gotten into you,” she repeated, “but I like it.”

  He yanked her hair. “Do you want to be fucked?”

  “Yes. I want you to fuck me.”

  “Then you better rub your clit like I told you.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  He slid a hand over her ass and slapped it again. Her entire body tensed and she shuddered.

  “I’ll paddle your ass raw.”

  “Oh God,” she said breathlessly. “If we had more time, I’d resist more,” she whispered. “Next time.”

  And there would be plenty of next times. A lifetime’s worth.

  She groaned as she began to work her clit. “I’ll do whatever you say, Master Sinclair.”

  “Good,” he murmured to her. “Rub it fast and hard—don’t tease it. Get yourself off.”

  He used his hand to guide his cock into her hot, slick opening. He thrust into her with gentle, shallow strokes to wet himself with her juices. Intense pleasure coursed the entire length of his cock as he plunged deep with one driving thrust. Myrna cried out, her pussy gripping him in hard spasms as she came.

  “Don’t stop rubbing yourself just because you came,” he said.

  Her vocalizations grew so loud, he wouldn’t have been surprised if someone opened the closet door to investigate. He didn’t want her to quiet down though. He wanted her to scream his name.

  Brian possessed her with a relentless hard and fast rhythm, one hand tugging at her hair, the other gripping her hip to pull her against him with each thrust. He never imagined the first time he made love to his wife that he’d be fucking her hard and dirty in a supply closet backstage. He’d imagined rose petals floating in a warm bath. Gentle touches. Tender kisses that lasted for hours. But fucking her this way would bring him release quickly, and he needed that tonight. Needed to get his overwhelming desire for her out of his system before he went onstage. He’d treasure her, as she deserved, later that night. For now, he embraced the building urgency in his groin and relished the pleasure rippling through his body. He shouted in triumph as he found release. Bliss flooded every inch of him as his seed pulsed into her body.

  He wrapped both arms around her and pulled her upright to hug her back against his chest. His lips brushed her silky hair. “You’re beautiful.”

  She chuckled. “It’s too dark in here for you to know that.”

  “I know it.”

  “Do you think you can make it through your concert now?”