Wicked Beat (Sinners on Tour 4)

“Oh God, Reb. Stop. It feels too good. I can’t—”

She sucked him dry and then pulled back to release him from her mouth. “Oh, monsieur, that was so delicious. I would like more please.”

“Give me five minutes,” he said breathlessly.

She stood and snuggled against his chest. “I have such strange feelings between my legs, monsieur. What does it mean?”

“Strange feelings?”

“Yes, there is a wetness there, and it throbs and aches.”

“Perhaps I should take a look.”

Rebekah chuckled. “Yeah, I really think you should.”

Eric turned off the water and led her to the bench. He spread several towels over its surface, knowing his beautiful Rebekah deserved better. “Lie here, mademoiselle. I will try to help you with your strange feelings between your legs.”

“Thank you, monsieur. It is most perplexing.”

He sat on a towel on the floor and pulled her to the end of the bench. He stroked her slippery folds with two fingers. “I see the wetness you were talking about,” he said.

“What is it?”

He touched his tongue to her flesh, and she jerked in response. “My favorite flavor,” he murmured and licked the rim of her opening until she was clinging to his hair, and her juices were flowing freely.

“Oh, monsieur. A little higher up there is a spot that needs examining, I think.”

Eric grinned. He leaned away and drew his fingers through the curls at the apex of her thighs. “Here?”

“Close,” she panted.

He brushed his fingertips over her clit. “Here?”

She sucked a breath through her teeth. “Yes. Yes. Right there.”

He rubbed her clit in a circular motion. “Does that help?”

“Oh yes.”

He leaned forward to replace his fingers with the suction of his lips and the flick of his tongue. “Oh Eric,” she gasped. “I’m so close. Slide your fingers inside me.”

He knew she was worried about her body being weird inside. He hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“P-please.”

He slid the tip of one finger into her hot, slick flesh. His c**k grew hard within seconds. He inserted a second finger and slowly pushed inward while he continued to suck and flick her clit.

“Oh, yes, Eric. That feels so good. Does it feel weird inside?”

It felt like pure heaven. Smooth. Warm. Silky. He wanted to bury his c**k inside that slick, swollen passage. “It feels perfect, Rebekah. Perfect. Not weird at all.”

He pressed his fingers into her as deeply as he could and then slowly withdrew before thrusting inside again. He continued to take her deeply with his fingers while he suckled her clit. She cried out, and her pu**y gripped his fingers in rhythmic spasms as she came. Nothing weird about that either. He only wished her muscles were gripping his c**k and he was joining her in bliss. When her body stilled, he carefully removed his fingers from her body.

“I’m ready,” she whispered. “Put it in.”

“What?”

“Put it in, Eric. I want to know what it feels like for you.”

“You’re asking me to make love to you? All the way. For real?”

“Yes.”

“Not here,” he said.

He climbed to his feet, stricken by her beauty. Flushed skin, dazed expression, heavy eyelids. She gnawed on the side of her finger, and he forgot the thread of their conversation.

“What do you mean, not here?” she asked, a hitch in her voice. If she started that stuttering, he would totally lose it. “Don’t you want to?”

“Our first time will be someplace nice. Get dressed. We’re going to the most expensive hotel I can find.”

“But—”

“No arguments, mademoiselle. I’m going to make love to you in a nice comfortable bed, not on a bench in a men’s locker room.”

“Why Eric Sticks, I never knew you were the considerate, romantic type.”

“I was mostly thinking about how hard it would be on my back.” He clutched his lower back and grimaced in pain.

“Sure you were.”

***

Eric found Jon in a dressing room playing a drinking game with the vocalist and drummer of the opening band, Kickstart.

“Eric!” Jon said in his outside voice. “What’s going on? Grab a chair. These dudes know how to party.”

“I can’t stay. I just want to borrow your car.”

“For what?”

“For a while.”

“Sit down. We have tequila. Good stuff. Not that rotgut you carry around in your flask.”

“I’ve got other things to do,” Eric insisted. He glanced over his shoulder and caught sight of Rebekah waiting near the door. She was twisting her hands in the hem of her T-shirt and looking entirely adorable as usual.

“Such as?” Jon pressed.

Eric forced his attention to the man he had once considered his best friend. “Important stuff. Look, can I borrow your car? If not, I’ll call a cab or something.”

Jon fiddled in his pocket and produced a set of keys. He held them in Eric’s direction suspended on one finger. When Eric reached for them, Jon closed his hand. “You can borrow it, but you owe me one.”

Eric stifled an angry retort. It was always like this with Jon. The guy could never do someone a favor out of the goodness of his heart. He always kept a running tab. And there was one thing he’d been holding over Eric’s head for almost three years. If Eric hadn’t wanted to take Rebekah someplace nice, he would have told Jon to forget it. He really did not want to owe the guy another debt, but taking Rebekah to a hotel where he could treat her right was totally worth it.

“Fine. I owe you one. Give me the keys.”

“You’re going to party with that hot little roadie, aren’t you? Re-bek-kah.” Jon chuckled. “She’s going to take everything she can from you and leave you high and dry like the others.”

Eric scowled. “She’s not like the others.”

“That’s what you always say.”

“Just give me the keys.” He yanked them out of Jon’s hand and stalked away.

“You’re welcome,” Jon called after him.

Eric flipped him off.

Rebekah wasn’t just using him for her own gain. Eric refused to let what Jon said get to him. Just because all his other relationships had been sham and he’d been a sucker didn’t mean this one was a repeat performance. He trusted Rebekah. Just like he automatically trusted any member of the female persuasion. Damn it.