Sinners On Tour 01 Backstage Pass (11 page)

“Harder!”

He slid out slowly. “You want me to pul out?”

She slapped him hard across the face. He flinched, his cheek stinging. He was too stunned to respond at first. She grabbed a handful of his hair.

“I said to fuck me! Did you hear that?”

Oh, he’d heard her. He’d fuck her until she begged him to stop.

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 cock in hard spasms. He leaned away from her enough to find her clit with his fingertips. He stroked her persistently as she came, her pussy sucking at his cock 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 cock 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 pussy 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.

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?”

“No, thanks. And you don’t look like crap.” She smoothed the lock of crimson hair that rested against his neck.

“Does Myrna have a crush on me?” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pul ed her against his side.

Someone snapped a picture.

“Hey,” Myrna cal ed after the guy with the camera and squirmed out of Eric’s grasp. “Hey, I didn’t say you could take my picture.

Hey!”

A black T-shirt over a hard-muscled chest appeared before her. She paused. Too tal to be Brian. She glanced up and her knees went weak.

“Sed?”

His lips curled into a self-satisfied smile, but she couldn’t see his eyes beneath his dark, mirrored sunglasses.

He fingered the backstage pass she had clipped to her suit lapel. “Hel o, Miss Suxsed. Good to see you here.”

“Y-you look… different.” Hot was what she meant, but she didn’t want to turn into one of those blubbering fans prostrating themselves at his feet. He had half a dozen of them in tow as it was.

“I can’t believe you wore a business suit to a metal concert, Professor. I think your bal s are bigger than mine.”

“Not possible,” the blonde to his left said and snorted at her own joke.

“Master Sinclair is in the bathroom.” Sed jerked his head in the direction of a door toward the back of the room. “He needs the quiet before a gig, but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind seeing his muse for a few moments.”

“Thanks, Sed.”

“Who was that?” the blonde asked Sed.

“None of your business. Go get me a beer.” And off she went without protest. A brunette took the empty place at Sed’s side.

Myrna picked her way across the room. She spotted Jace in the far corner getting his hair fashioned into spikes by a roadie with a huge tub of green hair gel. Trey had two suckers in his mouth and a girl on his knee. The incredibly attractive young man sitting next to him had his hand on Trey’s thigh, but Trey didn’t seem to notice. He waved at Myrna when he saw her. She waved back, stopped in front of the bathroom door, and knocked.

“Occupied,” Brian’s voice came from the other side.

“It’s Myrna. Can I come in?”

The door opened. A hand in a fingerless, leather glove grabbed her forearm and tugged her inside. Brian wrapped her in a tight embrace. She buried her nose in his leather jacket at his shoulder. God, he smel ed good. In the three hours since she’d last seen him, she’d actual y missed him. Not good. She had to say good-bye to him in a couple of hours.

“I’m glad you made it,” he murmured.

His hard body trembled against her. She leaned back to look at him and she couldn’t help but gape. Heavy black eyeliner surrounded his eyes.

“You’re wearing more makeup than I am.”

“Do I look like a pussy?” Staring into the mirror above the sink, he barred his teeth at his reflection to make himself look mean.

Myrna hugged him from behind. “No. As always, you look sexier than should be al owed by law.”

“Are you going to arrest me?”

Her hand slid down to cup his package through his pants. “No, but I might have to punish you.”

Brian caught her hand. “Don’t get me worked up now,” he said. “I’ve got to be on stage in thirty minutes and I can barely walk as it is.”

She chuckled. Her hips and legs had gotten quite a workout today as wel . “I know the feeling. Is that why you’re trembling?”

He shook his head. “Typical preshow jitters. I’l be fine once I’m on stage.”

He tugged her around his body so that she faced him. She leaned back against the sink and accepted his tender kiss.

“I’m glad you came,” he said. “I had it in my head that I’d never see you again.”

“I wouldn’t miss this show for anything. I might not look it, but I’m your biggest fan.”

“I like this suit.” He fingered the top button of her blouse. “Do you have your garters on underneath?”

“If I decide you’re worthy, you might find out after the show.”

“Now there’s an incentive. I better get warmed up. My fingers are stiff.”

“Wil you kiss me first?”

He rested his hands on the sink on either side of her hips and leaned forward to claim her mouth. Like a struck match, she ignited with need. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers intertwined with the hair at the nape of his neck. Normal y soft, it was now stiff and sticky with hairspray and gel. She felt she had access to two undeniably sexy men in one. The real Brian she’d spent the day with—a ten out of ten. And this rock star version, Master Sinclair—another ten out of ten. They were the same person, and yet total y different.

Pul ing away slowly, he opened his eyes to pin her with a sultry look. “I’l play something for you on stage.”

“What?” she asked breathlessly.

“You’l know.”

Leaving Myrna leaning against the sink, Brian opened the bathroom door. Some girl with black and purple hair was instantly in his face. “Master Sinclair! Final y. I’ve been waiting to see you for-like-ever!” She grabbed his arm and hopped up and down. “Oh my God, I loooooove you. Can I have your autograph? Pleeeeeease.”

He scarcely glanced at her as he signed the insert to a Sinners CD that she’d handed him.

The girl looked over his shoulder into the bathroom. “Who’s that?”

“None of your business.” He handed her pen and CD insert back to her. “Go get me a beer.”

And off she went without protest.

Myrna laughed. Brian glanced at her over his shoulder, an eyebrow quirked at her. She shook her head at him, stil grinning. How easy would it be to get a superiority complex with these fans racing around to fulfil his every request?

Standing on the floor looking up at the stage with a couple of the roadies and several girls from the dressing room, Myrna waited for Sinners to make their entrance. Her heart thudded with anticipation.

“Who are you, anyway?” one of the dressing room girls asked.

“None of your business. Go get me a beer,” Myrna said.

The girl scowled at her, creasing her heavy blue and black eye makeup. Myrna wondered if she thought that much glitter was real y necessary. It detracted from her looks rather than adding to them.

“Uh. That was a joke,” Myrna said. “I’m a friend of Brian’s.”

“Did you babysit him when he was in elementary school or something?”

Ouch.

“No, actual y, I’m fucking him.”

“Heh, I thought so.” The girl grinned. “How’d he hook up with a stuffy chick like you?”

Myrna shrugged. “Who are you here with?”

“Sed or Trey. I was hoping Brian, since Angie split, but he’s a one chick kind of guy.”

“Sed
or
Trey?”

“Maybe both. Depends on their mood and how tired they are after the show.”

“Not Eric or Jace?”

“Eric wil probably watch. He can bang me when Sed’s done if he feels like it. And Jace… He’s way too extreme for me.”

“Jace is?” Cute and quiet little Jace?

Another girl nodded, joining their conversation. “Jace is a lunatic. First, he asked me to hit him with this whip thing to get him al in the mood, and then when we were doing it, I thought he was going to kil me. I mean literal y. I almost suffocated.”

“Huh.” Myrna never expected that kind of thing from Jace. “And what are your names?”

“I’m Darlene,” the girl in heavy eye makeup said.

“Joyce,” said the near fatality.

“I’m Myrna. Myrna Suxsed.”

The girls laughed. “We’re related. Sisters, I guess.”