The Best Kind of Trouble
Page 72

The Natalie that she was back at the beginning wanted to kick the door down, jump on him right there and ride him to the floor.
“You should see something,” he whispered.
“I’ve seen it.”
He laughed, sliding his hand up to cradle the back of her neck.
“It’s in my dressing room. It shouldn’t take too long to see.”
“Better take long enough for both of us to see it.”
He laughed again, kissing her. “Of course.”
Tuesday was talking to Ezra and Mary. Natalie motioned that she was ducking out, and Tuesday waved a lazy hand at her to go on and get some.
He took her hand and dragged her out of the room and two doors down. He ignored the hails of his name, slamming the door once they were inside, locking it.
“Now, then.”
Holy cow.
“I believe earlier, I mentioned wanting to see that particular shade of lipstick on my cock. But I’m all sweaty so it can wait. What can’t is you dropping those pants and panties, facing the table over here, bracing your hands and waiting for me.”
He pulled his shirt from his waistband, wiping his skin down and goodness help her, it probably should have been gross but it was sooo hot. She moved to the table, facing him as she got out of her boots but kept her socks on, and slid her pants and panties off.
He dug in his bag, pulled out a foil packet, and she turned, bracing her hands, sticking her butt out because why lie about how much she wanted it at that point?
“Damn, look at you.”
The sound of his pants unzipping made her suck in a desperate breath. His heat at her back and then a kiss to her neck.
Ever the gentleman, even as he was ordering her around, he slid his fingers through her, testing her readiness. He hissed. “You want this as bad as I do,” he murmured as he pressed inside with his cock.
She arched to meet him as a driven sort of heat settled in her gut.
“Yes. Give it all to me, Nat. I’m all worked up and I need you.”
The table began to thunk against the wall as he thrust harder and harder.
He crooned to her all manner of dirty, sexy things. Some sweet. Some vulgar. All hot. He f**ked her as though he couldn’t possibly do anything else. His hands roved over her body until one found its way to the spot between her legs she needed him most.
Needed him to soothe that ache that was just out of reach of climax.
He’d gone quiet and she knew he was close. Knew he was waiting for her to go first. She opened her eyes and realized the glass frame on the poster hanging in front of them reflected what they were doing.
He had a smile on his face and she bit her bottom lip, tightening around him with her inner muscles, gripping the edge of that table so hard, her knuckles went white.
A roll of pleasure took her and she let it. Grabbed it, jumped in. Behind her—inside her—she knew he’d met his own end as he made that growling snarl he did when he came.
He kept deep and she gasped, sucking in air, letting go of the table to slap a palm against the wall, going up to her toes to receive him.
“Jesus.” A harsh whisper as he pulled out.
She swallowed around a dry throat as she turned to watch him duck into the attached bathroom. She opened a bottle of water, drank half and handed the rest his way.
“Thanks, baby.”
She watched his throat work, his Adam’s apple going up and down as he swallowed. His gaze never left her as she got dressed.
He grinned, tossing the bottle into a recycle bin. “You look like your boyfriend just f**ked you hard and fast in his dressing room.”
She laughed. “It’s the new trend. I guess I know why now.”
He stepped close, his arm snaking around her waist to pull her to him. “Let me kiss you before you put your lipstick on again.”
She did, breathing him in. Loving his taste and the way he felt against her.
“I feel better.” He grinned, stepping back.
“I’m glad I was here to help you out.”
He could have told her he normally came back and jerked off in the shower to rid himself of the postshow adrenaline jitters. Or availed himself of the women who offered themselves. But Natalie was there now, and what they’d just done was better than f**king his fist or some stranger.
Even better, despite the chaos all around them, she seemed to be dealing with it well. Maybe the key was a good hard f**k to keep her mellow. He could be down with that.
“Let’s go back and celebrate awhile. Then we’ll go home, and I’ll pretend not to scour the media to see what they thought of the material.”
“I’m sure we can find a way to keep you occupied some.”
He took her hand. “What did you think?”
“You were awesome. The band was awesome. The material sounds great live. I’m so proud of you. How are you going to do the piano thing when you’re on tour? If Ezra isn’t there to do your guitar parts, how does that work?”
“We have a guitarist and a few other musicians who tour with us. I’ll probably end up playing the guitar and someone else will do the piano.”
The room was lively still, filled with friends and family and a few faces Paddy hadn’t seen in some time—including Adrian Brown.
“Adrian! Dude, I had no idea you were going to show up.”
He shook his friend’s hand, grinning.
“Jeremy is around here somewhere. Gillian told me to come down and see the show. My house is overrun by women and babies and toddlers right now.” Gillian was Adrian’s wife and the mother to his teenaged son and toddler daughter.