Sinners at the Altar (Sinners on Tour 6)

“What are you doing?” Rebekah whispered loudly.

“Ensuring us a little privacy.”

“For what?”

Glassy-eyed and grinning, Eric led her to the enlarged wheelchair-accessible dressing room near the back of the store. He already looked like his cobra was ready to spit on her. The man’s sexual appetite knew no end. Not that Rebekah had any complaints. Hers happened to match his. At least it had since she’d met Eric Sticks, Mr. Libido himself.

When they were inside the large stall, he locked the door and immediately stripped her T-shirt off over her head.

“Don’t they have cameras in these things?” she asked, covering her bra with crossed arms.

Eric glanced around the stall and located a suspicious-looking black lens. He tossed her T-shirt over it and after checking carefully for additional points of observation, said, “Feel better?”

“What if Malachi wakes up?”

“I don’t think a nuclear explosion would rouse the man from his afternoon nap.”

She shrugged and stripped off her jeans and flip-flops. She slipped into the skirt and top of the costume and studied herself in the mirror while Eric tried to figure out how to fasten a leather sword belt over his toga.

Rebekah tugged at the hem of her short white skirt as she examined the outfit.

The bodice and skirt were trimmed in gold and faux jewels. It was cute and a little reveling—several inches of her belly showed—but it wasn’t exactly what she’d envisioned wearing when she said I do. Of course she’d never imagined she’d be marrying someone like Eric, so quirky and fun and enthusiastic and spontaneous. Someone who completed her and made her feel alive and radiant with joy. She figured she’d settle for someone a bit more even-kilter. In other words, boring. Thank God she’d come to her senses.

“I’m not sure this is proper wedding attire,” she said.

“You look sexy, baby,” a deep voice whispered in her ear. She shivered at the sound, her body recognizing the tone as some surrender-to-his-passion cue.

A pair of strong, masculine hands slid around her bare midriff and splayed over her belly, which began to quiver in anticipation. The man’s hands always enflamed her into a raging inferno of lust.

She watched Eric touch her and smiled at the pair they made in the mirror, him all tall and dark and rugged and her all short and light and… she hated to admit it… adorable. Ugh! She couldn’t help but quirk a brow at the sight of Eric’s long bare legs peeking from beneath his own skirt. Well, technically his toga.

“I remember reading somewhere that Cleopatra sailed down the Nile topless.” Eric’s breath teased her ear, lifting gooseflesh along her spine. “Don’t you think you should stay in character?”

“I think you’re making that up,” she said.

“I’m not. Some famous historian discovered Ms. Patra had a bit of exhibitionist in her. They’ve recently started calling her the Lady Godiva of the Nile.”

“Oh really? What was this famous historian’s name?”

He shook his head. “I’m sure you’ve never heard of him.”

“I’m sure you’re right, because he doesn’t exist.”

Eric unfastened the gold clasp between her breasts and slipped the small top from her shoulders. The garment dropped to the floor. Eric traced the cup of her bra with one finger.

“Well, this will never do. I know Cleo never wore a bra,” he said.

She lifted an eyebrow and met his gaze in the mirror. “Are you going to try to convince me that she was the first feminist?”

“No, nothing like that,” he said, grinning as he watched his finger glide over the soft swell of her breast in her reflection. “Bras hadn’t been invented yet.”

Rebekah snorted with laughter.

Eric fumbled at her back, and the hook of her bra popped loose. The white lace landed at her feet on the strangely patterned red and green plush carpet. The décor of the costume shop probably hadn’t been upgraded in at least thirty years, but the ambiance of the place didn’t matter. Rebekah was having fun.

She always had fun when she was with Eric.

His hands slid up her ribs to cup her breasts and pinch her nipples. Her body jerked as her pussy throbbed with appreciation of his attention.

She also always had sex when she was with Eric.

Eric rubbed both her nipples with his thumbs until the pink tips grew hard and achy beneath his persistent touch. Rebekah sighed and lifted her arms over her head to bury her fingers in his thick black hair. It felt like warm silk against her fingertips. Some people thought his unusual haircut was weird, but she found it delightful. If she felt like stroking soft short hair or burying her fingers in medium-length hair or wrapping long strands around her hand or playing with stiff spikes, she could. All on the same head. Fingers delighting in the medium-length strands at his nape, she urged Eric’s head down so he’d use that delicious mouth of his on her flesh. Eager to please, Eric trailed kisses along her shoulder as she watched him in the mirror.

“Mark Antony’s sole purpose in life was to stroke his queen’s nipples so they looked pert and inviting to all who faced her,” Eric continued with his fabricated history lesson.

“Is that so?” she asked skeptically.

“Why do you think she was able to bend so many all-powerful kings to her will?”

“Maybe because she was intelligent and cunning?”

“Nah,” Eric said, rolling her tender nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. “She had a fantastic rack.”

He tugged hard at the taut buds until they slipped free of his fingers. Spikes of pleasure spiraled through Rebekah’s flesh. She moaned and squirmed against him.

“You might not have the right hair color to be an authentic Cleopatra, but you definitely have the perfect tits to bring kings to their knees.”

Rebekah chuckled at his compliment. “So what did Mark Antony do when his constant nipple stimulation made his queen’s pussy all hot and achy? Surely she found it to be incredibly distracting. It must be difficult ruling an empire when all you can think about it being filled with your lover’s hard, thick cock.”

Her lover’s hard, thick cock jumped against her lower back at her declaration, and he bent his knees to poke her in the ass with it.

“That’s where wearing a man-dress came in handy,” Eric said.

She giggled. “You mean a toga?”

“Yeah, that’s what I said: man-dress.” He nibbled at her ear. “Take your panties off, my queen, and I’ll fill that hot, achy pussy right up for you.”

She flushed at his suggestiveness. If she took her panties off, things were going to get out of hand in a hurry. “Don’t we have to be at the courthouse soon?” she asked.

“We have at least an hour to waste.”

“And you’re sure the owner of this shop isn’t watching us on the security camera right now?”

“I doubt he knows where the security camera is. Besides, we covered the lens, remember? And I locked the front door, so we have the entire place to ourselves.”

“I should have known you were up to something naughty when you did that.”

“I’m always up and always naughty.”

She glanced up at the pink T-shirt covering the camera lens in the corner of the dressing room and then reached under her skirt to slide her panties down. She kicked them off and squirmed when cool air bathed the hot and achy flesh between her thighs. Truthfully, she had no problem when things got out of hand in a hurry as long as the hands were Eric’s very capable ones.

When Eric slid his palms down from her breasts, she caught them and returned them to her chest.

“Now, Mark Antony,” she said, “you wouldn’t shirk on your sole purpose in life, would you? Keep those fingers where they belong.”