Backstage Pass (Sinners on Tour 1)

“Sorry,” he whispered, rubbing her head with the palm of his hand. “Too hard?”

She shook her head vigorously. “I like it.”

He dragged her sideways across the bed, turning her partial y on her side, so that he straddled one of her legs. He wrapped her other leg around his waist.

“Oh,” she gasped at the change in stimulation. She liked that, too.

He thrust into her, biting his lip as he pounded against her. Soon his hard thrusts pushed her beyond the edge of the bed. She caught herself with her hand to keep from tumbling to the floor.

“Damn it,” he growled, and pul ed her back up onto the bed. “I can’t seem to get deep enough. I want… I need…” He gasped and ground his hips as he pushed into her. His fingers dug into her hips and held her steady, seeking to possess her ful y.

“Let me try.” She pushed him onto his back and sighed in frustration when he slid out of her. Emptiness replaced the perfect way he fil ed her. She hurried to straddle his hips and sank down on his thick cock, taking him as deep as he would go, stretched to her limits. Her head tilted back in ecstasy.

His hands wrapped around her waist, pul ing her down, urging her body to take more of him. “Deeper,” he groaned. She bounced against him, taking him a centimeter at a time until, at last, she had accepted al of him.

“Now you have al of me,” he whispered, looking up at her through heavy eyelids. His fingers traced paths up and down her spine, making her shudder. “Ride me, baby. Show me how you like it.”

He cared how she liked it? She didn’t understand why that turned her on so much, but she rode him. Lifting her hips and grinding downward, gyrating to stimulate her clit against his pubic bone, she used him for her pleasure, ignoring his needs. She just wanted to get off. An orgasm rippled through her. She cried out, but didn’t stop. Again. She wanted to come again with him inside her. She took him faster, rotating slightly with each downward stroke. She wasn’t sure when she’d started chanting his name. “Brian. Brian.” After her second orgasm? “Oh, Brian.” Her third? “God, Brian. Yes.”

His hips rose off the bed to meet her strokes. He bit his lip, his head tossed back. She’d never seen anything sexier in her life. Watching his expression was almost better than the waves of pleasure coursing through her own body.

“Oh f**k, f**k,” he shouted, and grabbed her firmly by the hips to stop her gyrating thrusts. “Stop, stop. Give me a minute.”

She slapped him hard on the chest. “Don’t hold back on me, goddammit. I wanna make you come.”

“No, no. Not yet. Not yet. Damn.” He pul ed her off him and tossed her onto her back in the center of the bed. “Shit, shit, I’m going to lose it.”

Lose what? His erection? Not bloody likely. He was as hard as granite.

He rol ed on top of her and slid inside her again. Her eyes drifted closed. Her back arched, rubbing her bel y against his. The fingers of his left hand tapped rhythmical y against her shoulder. His strokes were different this time, a three-quarter time beat, if she wasn’t mistaken, and he was humming under his breath.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Shh. Shh. I’ve almost got it.”

She watched him for a moment, trying to figure out the sudden change in him. “Are you hearing music in your head?”

“Shh, sweetheart. Please.”

She fel silent. Whatever he was doing was obviously important. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the perfect rhythm of his deep strokes. The riff he hummed in her ear was outstanding. Sensual. Even more sensual than his usual work. She’d never heard anything like it before, and she was a col ector of excel ent guitar segments. He paused and looked down at her. “I need something to write on.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“Baby, I haven’t written a new riff in months. You are beyond awesome.” He grinned down at her, pumping into her hard and steady. “Making love to this perfect body stimulates more than my cock.”

“Thanks.” She quirked an eyebrow at him. “I guess.”

He reached for a pen on the side table and uncapped it. He wiped the sweat from her body with the sheet and drew a straight line across her chest. He then added a series of dots on, above, and below the line. Scribbled letters appeared here and there. E. C. C#. She just watched him, too surprised to protest. The line of musical notes continued across her br**sts, under her br**sts, several lines along her bel y.

He paused, his eyes drifting closed. “God, you feel good, Myrna. So good.” She planted her feet on the bed, lifted her hips and gyrated. “Yeah.” He rose up on his knees slightly and thrust forward, grinding deep. “Perfect,” he murmured. “Take me. Al of me. Inside.” He began to pump into her again, withdrawing only slightly as if he didn’t want to move at al . “I hear you,” he whispered. Her brow furrowed. Her panting? Is that what she meant?

He pul ed out unexpectedly, leaving her empty. She groaned in protest.

“Turn over,” he demanded breathlessly.

“What?”

“I’m out of space and this solo you’ve inspired…” He shook his ink pen at her.

She laughed. “You’re crazy.”

“Al geniuses are.”

She smiled and rol ed onto her stomach. She’d thought he’d just start writing on her back, but he eased her onto her knees and slid his c**k inside her again. He thrust into her with the same rhythm as before, drawing notes across the skin of her back while she groaned. This man would be her downfal . She knew it with a certainty. She rocked back against him, loving the way his bal s slapped against her with each steady stroke.

“Hold stil ,” he complained.

“Then stop screwing me so wel .”

“I need the rhythm to get the spacing of the notes right. I could cal Sticks for a tempo, if you’d like.”

“I prefer this method.” She concentrated on holding stil for him so he could write and maintain his rhythm at the same time.

“God, me, too. But I need to come soon. I’m about to explode. Do you have any idea how f**king amazing you are?”

He scattered line upon line of notes across her back and then tossed the pen across the room. He leaned forward to squeeze her br**sts and pinch her ni**les as he deserted his music-writing tempo for quick shal ow strokes. His moans grew louder and louder as he gave himself over to pleasure.