Home > Sinners at the Altar (Sinners on Tour #6)(15)

Sinners at the Altar (Sinners on Tour #6)(15)
Author: Olivia Cunning

“And that’s a problem?”

Her stroking the length of his cock with both hands didn’t feel like a problem to him.

“Yes. I don’t want you to think I only want you for your body. I need you to know that I love you for more than your skills in the sack.”

“I do know that, Myrna.”

“You do?”

“Yeah.”

“Good, because I can’t wait another minute.”

He grunted in surprise when she grabbed him by one arm and flung him across the bed. She jerked his pants down to his knees, flipped him onto his back, and straddled him. She looked so fucking hot in nothing but her thigh-high stockings. The fuck-me gleam in her eyes sent control beyond reach. He grabbed her by the ass, and she directed his throbbing dick into the center of heaven. She sank down as he thrust up. They collided in bliss.

“Oh,” she gasped, following him down as he lowered his hips to the bed.

Head tilted back, eyes closed, Myrna sat impaled by him and rotated her hips to force her body to take him deeper. She whimpered, her fingertips curling into his abdomen. Being buried within her silky heat made him ache. He rocked his hips slightly to urge her to rise and fall over him.

“Do you still hear music when we make love?” she asked.

“Usually.”

“How do I make it happen?”

“I’m not sure, but you should probably move a little.”

She rose maybe an inch and lowered herself again. Lord, but she was tight around his cockhead when he was buried balls deep. He released a tortured gasp when she repeated the same slight motion again and again.

There was a sharp knock at the door.

“Brian,” Sed called through the door. “We need you in the stadium. Now.”

“What?” he grumbled. “I’m busy!” he yelled. “Get lost!”

“I’m really sorry, dude, but Dave said he needs you onstage now. Something about the configuration of something or other and a lot of impressive electronics-sounding words I didn’t understand and the threat of your guitar getting fried and electrocuting you.”

“Tell him to figure it out on his own!”

“Do I have to come in there and get you?” Sed yelled. “I’ve always wanted a second look at Myrna naked.”

Brian bellowed with rage. “I swear, I’m quitting this fucking band!”

“He’ll be there in a minute, Sed,” Myrna called.

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.

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