Sinners On Tour 01 Backstage Pass (6 page)

And harder. And harder. Harder. God yes, harder.
Make me feel you, Brian. Drive everything away but you.

Myrna’s head banged into the headboard. “Ow.”

“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 fuck, fuck,” 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 breasts, under her breasts, 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 cock 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 fucking 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 breasts and pinch her nipples 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.

With one final deep thrust, he cried out, “Myrna. Oh, God. Oh God, yes.”

She felt him shudder violently behind her and regretted that she couldn’t see his face. He grasped her hips and held her stil , grinding deeply until his spasms calmed.

He pul ed out and col apsed on the bed beside her, eyes closed, breathing hard. “That was fantastic.” He drew her down beside him and placed a tender kiss on her shoulder. “I’d cuddle with you, but I don’t want to sweat off my riff and solo.”

She laughed. “That must be the first time
that
excuse has ever been used to avoid after-sex cuddling.”

He took her face between both hands and kissed her reverently. Never had she been kissed reverently before.

“It’s the truth, though. I’d love to hold you close for hours.”

She smiled. A sweet sex god. What more could a girl want? He kissed her again.

“Ah Myrna,” he murmured. “I think my muse resides deep, deep inside you.”

“You sure know how to use her in exactly the right way.”

Walking through a hotel in nothing but a bathrobe and panties… Only Brian Sinclair could talk Myrna into doing something that bold.

He’d actual y tried to convince her to go naked, but she’d reminded him that her stuffed-shirt col eagues would likely be roaming the hal s at this hour. She and Brian took the elevator to the top floor. While the car rose, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and kissed her temple.

“I’m sorry to make you miss your conference.”

“No, you aren’t.” And she wasn’t either.

He grinned deviously. “You’re right. I’m not.”

“At least I don’t have to present a session today. How would I look walking up on stage bowlegged and limping?”

“You’d look sexy,” he said. “Especial y since I’d know why you were walking funny.” He tapped her nose with his fingertip.

She tried to ignore the little thril of happiness that fluttered through her heart. She was glad they’d be saying their good-byes tonight. The last thing she needed in her life was a distraction as monumental as Brian Sinclair. And he had her entirely distracted.

There were only two rooms located on the top floor. Brian fished his keycard out of his wal et and opened the door to one of the suites.

“After you, gorgeous.”

She stepped into the marble entryway of the suite, impressed by its expanse.

“Is that you, Brian?” Trey stepped out of the bathroom, shirtless and in baggy black jeans, drying his hair with a towel. His best feature was undoubtedly his sultry green eyes, and hiding one of them behind long bangs made him sexier for some reason.

“And guest,” Brian said.

Trey tossed the towel aside. “Oh hey, pretty lady.”

“Hi, Trey.” She waved self-consciously.

“I guess he found you last night,” Trey said.

“Barely,” Brian admitted.

“Is that Lucky Von Shithead I hear?” Eric’s voice came from a room off to the right. “Goes out and gets himself some Certified Grade A pussy while leaving us high and…” He paused in the doorway, his eyes racking over Myrna’s disheveled hair, bathrobe, and bare feet. “Shit. Sorry, Myrna. I figured you’d have dumped him by now.”

She flushed. “Not yet.”

“So we have this little bet,” Eric began.

“Shut up, Numbnuts.” Brian turned to Trey. “Did someone bring my guitar upstairs last night?”

“It’s in the dining room.” Trey nodded down the hal .

Brian headed in that direction. Myrna fol owed him, but Eric darted into her path. She looked up at him. His pale blue eyes seemed to penetrate her robe, skin, flesh, and peer right into her soul. She shivered and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he said. “We need to know who won our bet.”

“I lost,” Trey said. “He found her room.” He stuck a cherry sucker in his mouth and brushed past Eric and Myrna to fol ow Brian.

“Hey, what’s going on? Why do you want your guitar? Did you final y come up with a new riff?”

“When did he pass out last night?” Eric asked Myrna.

“After he swal owed my banana and I forced him to consume my fluids.” She winked at him.

His mouth fel open. “What?”

“Excuse me.” She brushed Eric aside and fol owed the sound of a guitar being plugged into an amp.

A second guitar hummed with feedback.

“Myrna, hurry,” Brian cal ed.

She entered the dining room and paused. Brian “Master” Sinclair, his signature black and white Schecter guitar slung low. Trey Mil s, sucker stick jutting out of his mouth beside him, adjusting one of the leads on his yel ow and black guitar. Nice! Brian beckoned Myrna closer by flicking two fingers at her. He shifted her in front of himself and Trey, and then untied the sash of her bathrobe. He tossed the fabric aside, revealing his score, and the vast majority of Myrna’s naked body. Under the robe, she wore only pink bikinis.

Heat flooded her face, but she stood stil .

“Nice tits, Myr,” Trey said around his cherry sucker. His gaze moved from her bare breasts to the string of notes written above and below a single line. “There’s no staff, Brian. What in the hel am I looking at?”

Brian pointed to the start of the line, near Myrna’s right shoulder. “Middle C. The first chord.”

Brian showed Trey his fingering and struck the strings with his pick.

Trey moved his hand along his guitar strings, glanced back at the score on Myrna’s skin and nodded. “Okay. I see. Harmony or concert?”

“Let’s try harmony first.”

“Gotcha.” Trey shifted his sucker to the other side of his mouth, and then struck the first chord.

“Grungier,” Brian said.

Trey adjusted a knob on his guitar, tilted his wrist slightly and struck the chord again.

“Yeah, like that.”

“Okay, let’s go.”

Myrna’s eyes widened as they played one of the most amazing riffs she’d ever heard. The idea that she had something to do with its creation thril ed her.

Eric entered the dining room. “Sounds great.”

Trey missed a beat and his guitar rang with a discordant note. Brian paused and glanced at him. “Something wrong?”

“I can’t concentrate with those…” He lifted his hands in front of Myrna’s chest and flexed his fingers inches from her breasts. “…in my field of view.”

“Oh, come on, Trey. How many pairs of tits do you see in an average week?” Brian asked.

“Doesn’t matter. I’ve never seen hers.” Trey nodded toward Myrna.

Myrna’s face flamed as she closed the robe over her exposed chest.

“Hey, I didn’t get to see them yet,” Eric complained.

“Go bang on a drum in the other room.” Brian pul ed the robe sash free from its loops and handed it to her. “Here. Hold this over your tits so Trey doesn’t knock his guitar out of tune with his hard on.”

She laughed and glanced sidelong at Trey, her face burning even hotter.

Trey nodded, pul ing his sucker out of his mouth with a slurp. “Seriously.”

“Al right,” she said.

Brian pul ed her robe off her shoulders and she held the sash across her breasts. It covered her nipples but little else.

“That’s almost worse,” Trey murmured. “Uhn. She’s so goddamned sexy. I just want to lick her al over.” He drew his tongue over his bottom lip, his gaze drifting over her skin.

Myrna’s eyes widened.

“Get your game face on, Trey.” Brian thumped him on the head.

Trey stuck his sucker back in his mouth and nodded. He struck the first chord and Brian joined him. The riff got better as their eyes moved over her chest, under her breasts, along her bel y. A few times through the sequence and they could play it without reading the notes. Myrna was so drawn up in the music, she didn’t notice Sed until he sat on the edge of the dining table beside her.