Christmas with a Rockstar (Rock Revenge Trilogy 3.50)

“Well, what do you want?”

“I want you to assure me that this won’t cost me the competition. That it won’t...uh...damage my career.” The most profound sense of relief washed through me. A cute little squeak shot from her lips as I jerked her onto my lap.

“You’re here because you deserve to be. I know it and you know it. Hell, for that matter, all of America knows it. Nothing we do or say over the next five days is going to change that. Okay?”

“Promise?” she whispered.

“Promise. Now, tell me, what are your hard stops, Baby Girl?”

“You calling me Baby Girl,” she instantly retorted, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Live with it. It’s an endearment.” The laugh turned into a groan when she shifted on my lap, her hip digging into my cock.

“Sorry. I should move.”

An evil smile spread across my face as I lifted her up, and said, “Straddle my legs.” She quickly complied. Crotch to cock, our bodies collided, and we both groaned. “Hard stops,” I reminded once she was settled back on top of me. My guess was she didn’t like being tied up, wasn’t fond of spanking, and absolutely refused to engage in ass play.

“Well, I hate cheating, so if there’s another woman, we should stop right now.” She stared expectantly at me and I realized she was waiting for a response.

“There’s no other woman,” I assured her. “Anything else?”

“I don’t mind being on bottom, but I like being on top, too.”

“Variety is the spice of life,” I murmured, and waited for her to continue. When she didn’t, I said, “Please tell me there’s more.”

Her hand jerked beneath mine. “Sorry to disappoint, but I’ve only been with two men in my life, Sander.” God, I was such a fucking dick. A long time ago, back before Indigo Road was formed, before the music industry had gobbled me up and spit me back out, I w

as as fresh-faced and innocent as Wynne. When had I become such a jaded old man?

“Shit, I’m sorry.”

Her body tensed, and I could tell she was about to bolt. Her whispered, “This is a mistake,” had me wrapping both of my arms around her. She immediately stopped struggling.

With my face now buried in her neck, I said, “It’s not a mistake. In truth, I find your innocence refreshing.”

“I’m not that innocent,” she muttered, and I fought back a laugh.

Lifting my eyes to hers, I arched my brow. “No? What would you say if I told you I wanted to strip you bare, bend you over that chair over there, and make you scream with my mouth before making you scream on my cock?”

Her breath hitched as her eyes darted to the chair in question. I could practically see her imagining it. Holy shit. She wants it. Wynne may be innocent, but only because she hadn’t found someone to educate her. We didn’t have enough time for chair sex, but that didn’t mean, I couldn’t get her off. First, though, I needed to taste her lips.

Our pelvises clashed as I pulled her back in, eliciting another mutual groan. Shifting us both sideways, I now had her ass on the sofa and her legs trapped in my lap. This allowed me to do what I’d been wanting to do for months. I dug both of my hands into her luscious mane of hair, pulled her to me, and ate up that sexy-as-sin mouth of hers. I expected the kiss to be good, but it was much more than that. It was fucking spectacular.

Her needy whimper shot my cock into overdrive. I wanted to lay her out, strip off those leggings, and feast on her. That would have to wait for the ride to the house. With one hand still fisted in her hair, I pulled her close, and continuing my assault on her mouth, I skimmed the other down to tease those perfect nipples of hers. What had I called them? Ahhh, yes, ripe berries. Inwardly chuckling, I gave one and then the other a brief tweak of attention before moving down between her thighs. I could feel the heat of her pussy through her leggings. Her hips jerked as I pressed the palm of my hand to her core and began to slowly massage.

Ripping her lips away, she gasped, “God, Sander!”

“Does that feel good?” I asked.

Touching her forehead to mine, she whispered, “So good.”

“Do you want more?”

“Please,” barely had time to leave her lips, when my tongue was back in her mouth and I was sliding my hand inside her leggings and dipping my fingers deep into the heart of her. She was wet for me, swollen, primed, and soaking. I knew she was there when her whole body tensed beneath my touch. I swallowed down her groan and smiled when she slumped against the back of the sofa. Right before the pilot came on the loudspeaker telling us to prepare for descent, I explained how I was going to taste her in the limousine and then fuck her in every room of my house.

Her response was a breathy, “Yes.”

No more than thirty minutes later, we were on our way to my house, and I was on my knees. Like a servant prostrating before his goddess—a goddess who just so happened to have her thighs perched on the tops of my shoulders—I was ready to make good on my promise. Cupping my hands under Wynne’s ass, I tilted up her hips and buried my tongue inside her. Salty tang rippled across my taste buds as I took what was mine. Her pants and groans only made me want more. I wanted it all. Surprisingly, Wynne wasn’t a screamer, but more of a groaner. Groaners were way sexier than screamers, and Wynne Benfield was the sexiest of them all.