Read Online Sinners On Tour 06 Sinners at the Altar by Olivia Cunning - Free Book Online
Authors: Olivia Cunning
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denied.
“I’m not blind, Brian.”
“I mean yes, but—”
“Nor am I stupid,” she added.
He forced his gaze to hold hers, but she looked away and glared at the woman accosting him.
“Get your fucking hands off my husband,” she said.
Her uncompromising tone made the hairs on the back of Brian’s neck stand on end.
“Your husband ?” the woman gasped.
“Yes, my husband. Mine. Get the fuck away from him.”
“I didn’t know—When did he—Well, how was I suppo—Just let me get my clothes.”
The woman moved away from Brian’s back, and he stepped outside the small, dark room. She closed the door quietly.
“Honestly, Myrna, I was trying to get away from her. There’s no way I would have done anything with her. She just grabbed me when I walked past the door.”
“I trust you.”
“I would never destroy what we have over something so stupid.”
“Brian, I trust you. Chill.”
Myrna slid into his arms.
“You do?” His body melted against hers with relief.
“Of course. Do I have a reason not to?”
“No. All I want is you.” They’d just danced to a song with th ose exact words as the title. Surely she knew he meant what he said.
She lifted a hand to cup his cheek. “I feel exactly the same way.”
He kissed her, his soul buoyant with joy.
The door behind him opened again and naked-chick, now mostly clothed, brushed past them as she fled. Still kissing him, Myrna walked Brian backwards into the empty closet and shut the door.
“I’ll have to thank your groupie for pointing out this place,” she said. “I wondered how I was going to get you alone backstage. I had settled on a bathroom stall, but the last time we tried that, it didn’t end well.”
Brian laughed. “It ended well for me.” He laughed again and squeezed her in a tight embrace. “But not so well for my lucky hat.”
“Or Eric.”
“Every time he wears that hat, I think I’m going to bust a gut trying not to laugh.”
“Less talking. More satisfying kisses.”
She clung to his shoulders. In the darkness, her kiss landed on his chin. She nibbled her way to his lips and caressed them with deep sucking kisses. As she warmed, her scent—a sweet combination of coconut, sex, and Myrna—intensified, blotting the scent of antiseptic cleanser coming from somewhere in the closet.
She nipped Brian’s lower lip. Lust slammed into his gut, hot and heavy. He moved his hands to her ass—which was in exactly the right location, thank you very much—and ground her pelvis against his rapidly engorging cock. He’d just got the damned thing under control, and hoped to God she wasn’t going to leave him unsatisfied again. He wasn’t sure he’d survive.
“How long before you have to be onstage?” she asked breathlessly.
She tugged impatiently at his hair—her signal that she needed to be penetrated quickly. It was one of his favorite signals. Second only to the gaspy moan she made in the back of her throat when she was close to orgasm.
“I’m not sure. Twenty minutes or so.”
“Are you hot for me?”
“Yeah, of course. I’m always hot for you.” He wished he could see her. Read her expression. The closet was completely devoid of light; he could scarcely make out the hairline crack under the door.
“Tell me what you want to do to me,” she whispered and caught his bottom lip between her teeth again, this time tugging until it slipped free. She was feeling frisky, was she?
“I want to let your hair down,” he said, sliding both hands up her back to press her more firmly against his chest. Something about getting it on with her while she was dressed in a conservative skirt suit always did it for him. Maybe because she was the only woman he’d ever known to wear suits.
“That’s it?” she whispered.
“I want to let your hair down, so I can wrap it around my fist while I fuck you from behind.”
Her breath caught.
“Are you wet?”
“Getting that way.”
He found the clip at the back of
“I’m not blind, Brian.”
“I mean yes, but—”
“Nor am I stupid,” she added.
He forced his gaze to hold hers, but she looked away and glared at the woman accosting him.
“Get your fucking hands off my husband,” she said.
Her uncompromising tone made the hairs on the back of Brian’s neck stand on end.
“Your husband ?” the woman gasped.
“Yes, my husband. Mine. Get the fuck away from him.”
“I didn’t know—When did he—Well, how was I suppo—Just let me get my clothes.”
The woman moved away from Brian’s back, and he stepped outside the small, dark room. She closed the door quietly.
“Honestly, Myrna, I was trying to get away from her. There’s no way I would have done anything with her. She just grabbed me when I walked past the door.”
“I trust you.”
“I would never destroy what we have over something so stupid.”
“Brian, I trust you. Chill.”
Myrna slid into his arms.
“You do?” His body melted against hers with relief.
“Of course. Do I have a reason not to?”
“No. All I want is you.” They’d just danced to a song with th ose exact words as the title. Surely she knew he meant what he said.
She lifted a hand to cup his cheek. “I feel exactly the same way.”
He kissed her, his soul buoyant with joy.
The door behind him opened again and naked-chick, now mostly clothed, brushed past them as she fled. Still kissing him, Myrna walked Brian backwards into the empty closet and shut the door.
“I’ll have to thank your groupie for pointing out this place,” she said. “I wondered how I was going to get you alone backstage. I had settled on a bathroom stall, but the last time we tried that, it didn’t end well.”
Brian laughed. “It ended well for me.” He laughed again and squeezed her in a tight embrace. “But not so well for my lucky hat.”
“Or Eric.”
“Every time he wears that hat, I think I’m going to bust a gut trying not to laugh.”
“Less talking. More satisfying kisses.”
She clung to his shoulders. In the darkness, her kiss landed on his chin. She nibbled her way to his lips and caressed them with deep sucking kisses. As she warmed, her scent—a sweet combination of coconut, sex, and Myrna—intensified, blotting the scent of antiseptic cleanser coming from somewhere in the closet.
She nipped Brian’s lower lip. Lust slammed into his gut, hot and heavy. He moved his hands to her ass—which was in exactly the right location, thank you very much—and ground her pelvis against his rapidly engorging cock. He’d just got the damned thing under control, and hoped to God she wasn’t going to leave him unsatisfied again. He wasn’t sure he’d survive.
“How long before you have to be onstage?” she asked breathlessly.
She tugged impatiently at his hair—her signal that she needed to be penetrated quickly. It was one of his favorite signals. Second only to the gaspy moan she made in the back of her throat when she was close to orgasm.
“I’m not sure. Twenty minutes or so.”
“Are you hot for me?”
“Yeah, of course. I’m always hot for you.” He wished he could see her. Read her expression. The closet was completely devoid of light; he could scarcely make out the hairline crack under the door.
“Tell me what you want to do to me,” she whispered and caught his bottom lip between her teeth again, this time tugging until it slipped free. She was feeling frisky, was she?
“I want to let your hair down,” he said, sliding both hands up her back to press her more firmly against his chest. Something about getting it on with her while she was dressed in a conservative skirt suit always did it for him. Maybe because she was the only woman he’d ever known to wear suits.
“That’s it?” she whispered.
“I want to let your hair down, so I can wrap it around my fist while I fuck you from behind.”
Her breath caught.
“Are you wet?”
“Getting that way.”
He found the clip at the back of
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