Backstage Pass
Page 22

He took her hard, fast and deep. She was screaming his name now, “Yes, Brian. Yes!” but it was no use. The music consumed him. Her body convulsed beneath him, the muscles inside her tightening around his c**k in hard spasms. He leaned away from her enough to find her clit with his fingertips. He stroked her persistently as she came, her pu**y sucking at his c**k in a maddening fashion. The chords playing through his mind sucked at him almost as maddeningly.
“Brian, you’ve got to stop,” she panted. “Please, I can’t take any more.”
He moved his hand away and she relaxed slightly. He grinned wickedly and stroked her clit again. Harder and faster this time, as he continued to drive his c**k into her. Her entire body shook uncontrol ably.
“Oh God. Oh God!”
“Yes?” He bit her earlobe. “I’m going to keep you here, coming repeatedly, until I let go. Is that okay with you?”
He stopped moving his fingers so she could think wel enough to respond.
“Please, stop,” she gasped. “Oh. Oh. Don’t stop. Never stop. Never.” She shuddered violently again. “Oh God, you have to stop.”
He paused, letting her catch her breath.
“There’s got to be a compromise in there somewhere.” His fingers stroked her mercilessly again. The solo struck him as her pu**y clenched around him in another orgasm and she writhed beneath him in ecstasy. Damn. He couldn’t pretend to ignore the music anymore.
“You’re not going to believe this,” he murmured.
She blinked at him as if he’d asked her to define the meaning of life, and then she seemed to drift back to her senses. “You’re hearing music again?”
“Yeah. And… it’s a bal ad.”
“You need to slow down?”
“Unfortunately.”
“I think I can tolerate it, if you can.” She chuckled tiredly, her body limp beneath him. He sighed and pul ed out before col ecting a pad of hotel stationary and a pen from a round table near the window. He climbed back on top of her. He set the paper on her shoulder, uncapped the pen with his teeth and jotted the first few notes down. He couldn’t hear the music when he wasn’t inside his lovely Myrna, so he slid into her body and concentrated on the sounds in his head while he fil ed her body with slow, steady strokes.
He was scarcely aware of her soft sighs, as the notes seemed to appear by magic, just like before. It turned out he was writing a series of connected solos. By the time he finished scribbling them down, he’d exhausted himself entirely. The pen tumbled from his fingertips and he looked down at Myrna.
She smiled up at him. “Al finished?”
How many women would let him drift off like that in the middle of sex without busting his bal s over it? How many women evoked that response in him in the first place? Only one.
He smiled sleepily. “I think I’m too tired to finish.”
“You’ve been at it for over an hour,” she whispered. “Do you want me to take over and help you out?”
Over an hour? That would explain why he was drenched in sweat and weak with exhaustion. “I’d appreciate it.”
He rol ed onto his back. Cold air bathed his crotch. He shivered. She straddled his hips and eased him inside her heavenly warmth. Myrna must have realized he needed to find release quickly. He’d built himself up beyond his usual peak without realizing it. He ached. She rode him fast, increasing his urgency.
Ah, she felt good. Tight. Warm. Soft. Smooth. Slick. Tight. Ah, God. So warm.
He had to come. Had to let it go. Couldn’t stop it. Had to. Had…
He erupted with a hoarse cry, spurting into her with glorious release, wishing he wasn’t wearing a condom. Wanting his seed inside her. Confused about those feelings. She col apsed on top of him and he wrapped his arms around her to hold her close. He drifted to sleep with her soft cheek pressed to his chest, his achingly ful heart throbbing within. At last. He’d found her. His one.
Chapter 7
Myrna knocked at the “Staff Only” door behind the stadium. A large man pul ed the door ajar, blocking its opening with his broad body.
“Can I help you, ma’am?”
She’d had nothing to wear but professional attire, but being cal ed ma’am smacked of elderly lady and set her teeth on edge.
“I’m a guest of Sinners.”
He gave her a “yeah, right” look and consulted a paper attached to his clipboard. “Name?”
“Myrna.” She coughed. “Myrna Suxsed.”
He grinned at her. “You must have a lot of sisters. There are half a dozen girls with that same last name on my list.”
She cleared her throat. “Indeed.”
He stepped aside, handed her a backstage pass with her fake name on it and pointed her down a corridor. People stood outside doors marked with the names of the opening bands. Most of the hal -dwel ers were young women who looked as expected. Wearing a black bra as a shirt seemed to be the norm. Myrna pretended to fit in, but she stuck out like a sore thumb. Every person she passed stopped talking in mid-sentence to gawk at her. Perhaps she should have bought some blue jeans. She hadn’t thought wearing a suit would be a big deal. Uh, wrong.
When she spotted the dressing room marked Sinners, she smiled. She’d be safe from the glares of rabid fans once safely inside. Right?
She knocked on the door and someone pul ed it open. Expecting to see only the band members, she found the dressing room fil ed wal -to-wal with people and didn’t recognize anyone. She slipped inside and closed the door. As she made her way across the room, looking for anyone who looked remotely familiar, she got a lot of double takes.
“Myrna!” Eric cal ed. “You made it.”
She cringed as he sprinted across the room and lifted her off the floor, her arms trapped at her sides. His height threw her off guard, six-four maybe, but rail thin. She hadn’t realized how damned tal he was until her feet rose nearly a foot off the ground.
“Put me down.”
Eric spun her around, kissed her loudly on the temple, and set her on her feet.
A young woman wearing black lipstick grabbed Eric’s arm. “Who’s she?”
He smacked the girl on the ass. “None of your business. Go get me a beer.”
And off she went without protest.
“Where’s Brian?” Myrna asked.
“He’s getting al dol ed up for the stage. I can look like crap. I sit behind the drum kit. But he’s front and center so he needs to look beautiful. Do you want a beer?”