Almost Paradise (Sinners on Tour Book 8) (9 page)

“I’m gonna make you come so hard,” she said, as her hand slowly slid down his belly. She kissed a trail down his spine and then sank her teeth into his ass. His body jerked with excitement. Anticipation. Was she really going to…

“Bend forward.”

He did as she instructed, placing his palms on the mattress. His stomach tightened with expectation and his body produced a hard shudder when her hand circled his cock and glided gently down his length. Her palm barely skimmed the surface of his flesh as she slowly stroked him. The anticipation was killing him. Was she going to do wicked dirty things to his ass or was she all talk?

Her hot breath bathed the underside of his balls, and he squirmed, spreading his legs as best he could with his jeans still tangled around his knees. The first hot, wet swipe of her tongue on his sac had his teeth clicking together as he drew an unsteady breath. Her mouth was as gentle with his balls as her hand was with his cock. It drove him insane. His arms began to shake, so he lowered his face to the mattress and gave himself to the pleasure rippling through him.

Rebekah’s hand moved faster, stroking his length, her wrist turning to offer a slight twist at his head. She captured one of his aching balls in her mouth and sucked.

“Fuck,” he whispered, squeezing his eyes closed. And to think there had been a time in his life when he’d rather
watch
sex than participate in it. That was no longer the case. Not since Rebekah had rocked his world.

Her tongue slid up the crease between his balls toward his ass. He grunted, anticipating her lick there, but no, her mouth returned to his other nut and gave it a vigorous suck. His breathing quickened as his pleasure intensified. The need to find release built inside him until he couldn’t help but rock his hips, thrusting into her hand.

She licked a trail upward and though he anticipated her backing away again, this time her tongue flicked his clenching asshole. The sensation lasted for just for an instant, but molten heat flushed through his entire body.

“Rebekah!” he gasped brokenly.

She nipped his ass cheek, sending a sharp thrill of pain through his overexcited flesh, before she rubbed the flat of her tongue over his tingling hole.

Oh God, his wife licking his ass was so deliciously dirty. There was no way he could hold back his orgasm when her tongue breached him, hooked upward, and popped out again. He cried out in ecstasy as he let go. He forced his eyes open and rested the top of his head on the mattress so he could watch his cum fill her hand and drip between her fingers. Then her hand moved and all he could see was his thick fluid dripping from the tip of his dick. He didn’t realize her intention until it was too late. Two fingers, slick from his cum, pushed into his ass, penetrating him deep and massaging a spot inside him that made him wonder if he’d ever stop coming. She added to his sweet torture by licking and sucking his balls. Unable to stand his cock just hanging there in the cool air, he wrapped his fist around it and tugged vigorously.

After she’d wrung every last bit of pleasure from his body, she slowly eased her fingers from their depths and slapped his flank. He collapsed on his belly, aftershocks of bliss making him shudder occasionally.

“How was that?” she asked.

He couldn’t form words, so he hoped his groan showed her sufficient appreciation. In a basin of water she poured from a jug, she washed her hands and brushed her teeth before lying beside him. He was almost breathing steadily now, but he hadn’t fully recovered from the pleasure he’d experienced.

“I love you,” he murmured. His arm flopped onto her back to pull her against his side. Soon he’d be able to find the strength to roll over and hold her properly, but for now, this attempt would have to do.

“I know. I love you too. I’m ready to hear your condition for going to Bangor now.”

He lifted his head, trying to see her face in the limited twilight that filtered through the gauzy curtains. “I thought that rim job was my condition.”

She grinned deviously. “That was just for fun.”

He chuckled and rolled onto his side so he could pull her against him belly to belly. “I love you now even more than I did three seconds ago.”

She laid a hand on his cheek and kissed him deeply. When they pulled apart, he was already interested in reciprocating her thoughtful gift of orgasm.

“Your condition?” she asked.

He’d forgotten again. “I’d say my condition is… aroused.”

She laughed. “Already?”

“But my condition for going to Bangor…”
Quick, before my thoughts get too clouded with lust again.
“You lose the schedule.”

She nodded agreeably.

“And—”

“You said
one
condition,” she cut him off.

“Aaaannd…” He wasn’t going to let her waylay his real condition, the one that mattered to him. “When we get to Bangor, you’ll let me decide if I want to meet them. And if I decide I don’t want to, you promise not to push me.”

She scrunched her face up. “But then I’m sure you won’t go through with it.”

“And that needs to be okay with you.”

She stared at him until it was so dark outside, he could no longer make out her features. “Will you at least promise to carefully consider your decision?” she asked. “And not just blow it off?”

“I promise.”

“Okay.” She snuggled her face into his chest. “I feel so much better now. I didn’t realize how much trying to trick you was bothering me.”

“You don’t have to hide anything from me. I’m not just saying that.”

Her breathy sigh permeated his T-shirt and warmed the skin over his thudding heart. “I love you now even more than I did three seconds ago,” she whispered.

Was it possible to melt? As all of his muscles relaxed at once, he was pretty sure it had just happened to him.

“Do you think we can make it to Santa Fe before nine?” she asked.

He huffed out a short laugh. Predictable. “You’re supposed to lose that schedule, remember?”

“Yeah, but we have dinner reservations at the best Mexican restaurant in the city.”

He kissed her forehead and released her. “If it will make you happy, we can try.”

“It will make me happy.”

Then there was nothing further to debate. Eric just hoped the minibus felt as cooperative as he did.

Rebekah enjoyed Santa Fe. The website she’d consulted while planning the trip had been right about the restaurant—delicious and romantic—as well as the hotel—gorgeous Southwestern style, cozy, and wonderful customer service. When using the traveler review site, she’d gone with the number-one visitor choices under every category, and so far she hadn’t been disappointed. She was glad she hadn’t used the same method for choosing their Vegas hotel. She couldn’t imagine a pricier hotel would have been any more fun.

“Time to get up,” she whispered in Eric’s ear. “We’re going to a museum.”

He grumbled something incoherent and smashed his pillow over his face.

“It’s a museum of art.”

He yanked the covers over his head, burying himself and the pillow still smashed to his face.

“Fine. I’ll go look at all those flowery vaginas by myself.” She scooted off the bed and reached for her shoes.

Eric tossed back the covers and sent the pillow tumbling from the bed. “Did you say vaginas?”

She lifted her eyebrows and nodded. “Vaginas everywhere.”

“I’m in.” He rolled out of bed and stretched his arms over his head. Rebekah forgot she was putting on her shoes as she sat on the carpet and stared at his long, lean body. The man was all well-defined muscle and sinew. Perhaps she’d been a bit hasty in getting dressed this morning.

But he was on board for the museum, so they headed out without any play time.

As they wandered the Georgia O’Keeffe art gallery, Eric began to fidget. “When do we get to the vaginas?”

“These are all vaginas,” Rebekah said. She looked down and spoke to her crotch area. “My husband didn’t recognize you.”

He lifted one brow. “These are all flowers.”

“Are you sure?”

He moved closer to the painting of an orchid and examined it, tilting his head slightly. “It does look like pussy.”

The woman beside him, who was studying the same painting, sniggered and then burst out laughing.

“Told you,” Rebekah said. “They’re beautiful.”

“I agree—pussy is spectacular. But if I get a boner every time I see a flower in the future, it’s your fault.”

“Georgia O’Keeffe’s fault,” she corrected. “I’m going to buy some prints in the gift shop and hang them all over our bedroom.”

“I’ll never be able to leave the room,” he complained.

“That’s the idea.”

They were on the road by noon, and while in the back of her mind Rebekah was hoping they’d make it to Oklahoma City by nightfall, she didn’t mention it to Eric. He got sidetracked storm chasing. Even though it was a cloudless day in December, he was sure that if he drove down enough dirt roads, he’d eventually spot a tornado. After taking several turns onto unpaved roads, their navigation proved worthless. Spectacularly lost somewhere in Oklahoma, Rebekah couldn’t believe there were still places in the United States that didn’t have cellular service. So they drove around the countryside, eventually stopping at sunset to watch the bright orange sun paint the sky pink before sinking below the horizon. Caught up in the splendor of nature, they warmed their chilly lips with deep, tender kisses before climbing into the back of the minibus for some calisthenics.

By the time they found an interstate that led them to Oklahoma City, it was too late to take in a comedy show in Bricktown and the restaurant she’d chosen was already closed, so they ordered room service and watched a campy zombie movie in their hotel suite before succumbing to exhaustion. It was the first night of their married lives where they fell asleep before making love. Eric seemed to realize this at around four in the morning, when he woke her with a stiffy poking her in the ass.

“I’m too tired,” she mumbled. “Let me sleep.”

Eric decided to take care of his condition on his own. The rhythmic slapping of him beating off was impossible to ignore. Rebekah switched on the lamp to watch him. His hand jerked up and down his length. God, his cock was beautiful. Staring at his hand circling the shaft, fingers bumping over the rim of his head and thumb brushing the opening at the tip, had her too aroused to sleep.

She slipped her fingers between her legs and shuddered as pleasure pulsed through her.

“Are you wet?” he asked.

“Mmmhmm.”

“Mind if I taste you while I jack off?”

She laughed softly. “I don’t think I’ll mind that at all.”

She knelt over his face backward so she could watch him stroke his cock while his tongue danced over her clit and dipped into her soaking wet pussy. She wasn’t sure if watching him come—his fluids erupting from his tip to splatter over his lower belly—or the chaotic flicks of his tongue against her clit sent her over the edge, but she screamed when her orgasm caught her by surprise. She lifted her hips, pulling away from his face so she could slam two fingers into her clenching pussy as she came.

“Dear God, you’re sexy,” he groaned. She knew he was watching her pleasure herself, and as usual, his attention stoked her fire.

“You’re the sexy one,” she said, sliding her fingers free.

He caught her wrist and brought her hand to his mouth, sucking her cum from her fingers.

Now sated, at least for a little while, they cuddled beneath the covers and slept until well past checkout time.

“Where’s our next stop?” Eric asked as he started the van after lunch in a small town diner in Arkansas.

“Branson, Missouri. They say it’s the Las Vegas of the Midwest.”

“Have you ever been there?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“It
wishes
it was Las Vegas.” He laughed. “Not even close.”

“Do you want to go somewhere else instead?”

“Nope. I like Branson. Just don’t expect it to be like Vegas.”

She wasn’t sure what to expect from the little city in the Ozark Mountains—mountains that looked like large hills in comparison to the Sierra Nevadas and the southern peaks of the Rockies—so she was surprised by how charming she found Branson. The air was chilly, giving Branson an atmosphere different from the warmer desert towns. That night she could see her breath as they as they walked between Christmas-themed shops.

“We should get a Christmas tree,” she said, leaning into Eric’s arm and squeezing his hand. “We’ll be home just in time to put one up for the holidays.”

Eric stopped in front of a store displaying thousands of unique ornaments. “I always wanted to decorate a tree with ornaments that meant something—buy a new one each year to represent an important event that had happened that year so that in fifty years the tree would be completely covered with ornaments that showed the history of my life. But I never started collecting them.”

“Why not?”

“It’s depressing to do that kind of stuff by yourself.”

“But you’re not by yourself anymore,” she reminded him. “You have me. And I think it’s a neat idea. We should do that. Start a family tradition.”

“A
family
tradition?”

She squeezed his hand, knowing that he didn’t have any family traditions because he’d never had a family. It was one of the many reasons why she so wanted him to meet his grandparents in a few days.

“Our first of many,” she said with a bright smile. “We are a family, Eric. A small one right now, but one we’ll add to over the years. Just like our tree.” She tugged him into the shop. “Let’s start our ornament collection now.”

“I guess we can,” he said hesitantly, but his resistance faded quickly as the Christmas music inside the shop washed over them. “Little Drummer Boy”—how fitting.

So many wonderful things had happened to Rebekah that year that she had a difficult time deciding on a single ornament. She’d gotten her dream job as a soundboard operator for the hottest metal band on the planet. Defeated cancer. Found her perfect lover. Fallen in love with him. Traveled all over the country, gaining respect in her field. Restored a car. Gotten her first tattoo and started her second. And most important of all, she’d married the most wonderful man in the world. With all the changes in her life, she needed at least twenty ornaments to represent her year.

Eric didn’t struggle with his decision at all. He selected a three-dimensional heart-shaped ornament of red blown glass and held it up for her to see.

“This was the year I found my heart,” he said, pressing his lips to her forehead.

Was it possible to melt? As all of her muscles relaxed at once, she was pretty sure it had just happened to her.

“I can’t decide,” she said, examining all the ornaments on display, but nothing was speaking to her as the perfect choice. And then she spotted it—a black snare drum with a pair of sticks crossed over the white drumhead. “This one,” she said, lifting it to show him. “This was the year I found you, my little drummer boy.”

He raised a skeptical eyebrow at her. “
Little
?”

“Well…” she said with a shrug. She knew the compliment he was fishing for, but it was much more fun to tease him. “You do have big feet, I guess.”

“I’ll show you big feet.” He lifted one of said feet to nudge the back of her ankle.

“Already seen them, thanks.”

They purchased their ornaments and a tiny artificial, pre-lit Christmas tree, and hurried back to their hotel room to set it up. With only two ornaments on its branches, the tree looked both small and bare, but Rebekah knew that in a few years they’d have a huge tree with boughs overflowing with special decorations. Especially once they started bringing adopted children into their lives.

Eric and Rebekah filled their short stay in Branson with quiet moments in their hotel suite staring at their little Christmas tree, planning their future together, and filling their present with love. The more time she spent with Eric, the less important the past seemed to Rebekah. Maybe she was wrong to encourage Eric to stir up his broken childhood. Maybe their newly formed family would be enough for him going forward. Or maybe he needed closure to his past. Or maybe his grandparents would shower him with the love he deserved. They’d never know until he met them.

In Tennessee, they visited Graceland. Eric wore his Elvis costume and sang all of the pop icon’s hits as they toured the place. The other guests seemed amused by Eric’s antics. The staff, on the other hand, were definitely annoyed. Their tour was cut short when they were asked to leave after Eric gyrated his hips against the wrong security officer.

Continuing their trek east, they stopped in Nashville, enjoying a delicious dinner and catching a country western show at The Grand Ole Opry.

“Not enough drums in country music,” Eric said as they started walking back to the resort room she’d booked.

“I agree,” Rebekah said, wishing they’d opted for the shuttle ride to the hotel. The temperature had been mild that afternoon, but was now approaching freezing. “God, I’m cold.”

“If we get any further north, I’m going to have to dig out that parka and snow pants,” Eric complained, drawing her against his side for warmth.

“I just want some earmuffs,” Rebekah said. She blew into her hands, rubbed them together, and then cupped them over her frigid ears.

“We could be in Tahiti right now,” Eric reminded her.

“You’re not having fun?” He hadn’t brought up Tahiti for days.

“No.” He shook his head and then grinned ear to ear. “I’m having a blast.”

She smiled back. “Me too.”

“But I think I’d have more fun if we did this in June instead of December.”

“Well, if you hadn’t been in such a hurry to get married, we could have had a June wedding like
normal
people.”

“But we’re not normal,” he said. “Not even a little. So why bother pretending?”

When they left Nashville the next morning, they were forced to scrape frost off the windshield. They didn’t own an ice scraper and neither had ever used one. Luckily, the man parked beside them allowed Eric to borrow his and even showed him how this ice scraping stuff was done.

“What are a couple of kids from Southern California doing this far east in December?” the balding man asked as he waited for Eric to finish with the ice scraper. “Off to see family for the holidays?”

“Haven’t decided if we’ll make it that far yet,” Eric said, which earned him a strange look. “We’re on our honeymoon.”

“I saw that painted on the back of your van. Figured you just hadn’t gotten around to removing it yet.”

Eric handed the ice scraper back to the man. “Thanks for letting me use it. I guess we’d better invest in one of those if we’re going to…” He looked at Rebekah, who was rubbing her hands over her arms for warmth. “Where are we going next, honey?”

“Uh, Pittsburgh.”

“Pittsburgh?” the man said. “What’s in Pittsburgh?”

Rebekah shrugged. “We’ll figure that out when we get there.”

“I figured you were headed to Niagara Falls. Isn’t that where all the honeymooners go?”

Eric brightened and before he even opened his mouth, Rebekah knew they’d be making a detour to Niagara Falls.

“Let’s go there,” Eric said.

She smiled. “I’m game.”