"Zac, it's Nathan. I need to talk to you. I need some advice. I know you're not going to be back in London until late on Sunday, but can we speak Monday, if not before? Cheers."
He pushed the phone into his pocket and moved back to the edge of the stage. Craning his neck, he tried to catch sight of Suzanne. He couldn't see her. Uncertainty gripped him, then discomfort. What if she'd gone?
He felt a tug on his t-shirt.
Turning around he found her standing behind him, and his sense of humor was back, and he was laughing at himself this time.
"Hey. I missed you." She smiled up at him. "Am I allowed up here?"
"Yes, of course." He gathered her against him, and found them a place to watch from the side of the stage.
"This feels like they're right in our home playing for us," she shouted over her shoulder, laughing.
The floor was vibrating beneath their feet. He snuck his hands down to rest beneath her breasts, enjoying the sexy feeling of her movement in his arms.
After a few minutes she turned around in his arms, pressed against him, looking up at him with mischief, she gestured him down so she could speak in his ear. "It's good here. I can feel the music pounding right through me."
"Right through you?"
She nodded, slow, her lips slightly parted, heat visible in her cheeks. "My pussy is on fire."
He wanted to feel that too. He led her from view and drew her along the dividing wall behind the spot were the band were playing, where the wall itself thudded with the sound. He backed her against it.
"Oh yeah." Her head rolled and her eyes were almost closing, narrowed into slits.
He put his mouth over hers, wanting to eat her up. She gurgled with pleasure, kissing him hungrily, her body rubbing up and down against his.
His cock was rock hard.
She panted, she was crazy for it. "Oh Nathan, I think I'm going to come, right here."
"Must bring you to gigs more often," he said, chuckling softly.
He groped inside her hipsters, desperate for the feeling of her moist hotspot. She was so soft and damp inside her panties, all peach-flesh and cream. He wanted to eat her. He pulled his hand out, licking her silky fluid from his fingers, enjoying the rich scent and taste of woman. He grinned at her when she groaned at his actions and shoved his hand in for more, fingers inside her folds, applying pressure to her hot little clit, pushing her on.
"The guitar," she whispered, hands flat against the wall, shaking her head, denying it.
She was going to come.
He reached his hand down—forcing her zipper all the way—and thrust his finger into the mouth of her delicious cunt, just as it tightened a
nd spilled.
* * * *
Abby walked over to the dressing table and sat down. She could see Zac's reflection in the mirror. He seemed to like her forest green velvet dress. She'd brought it because she could scrunch it into a ball and it rolled over her body like a stocking, from bust to thigh, small shoulder straps covered in tight velvet buds the only decoration. She began to brush her hair and after a moment he got up and walked over to her.
Leaning over, he took the brush from her hand and began to brush her hair. He moved on it expertly, lifting it from underneath and drawing it up with the brush, his fingers tracing the texture of it in the wake of the brush.
She moved her head to follow the path he chose through the tresses, arching her neck.
"You look so good," he said quietly. She looked up and their eyes met in the mirror.
She took the brush from him and put it down, leaning back against him. He sank his hands down her throat and over her shoulders. She reached up against him.
He leaned over to kiss her mouth from above and his hands curved over her velvet-covered breasts. "You should wear velvet more often."
He kissed her forehead, her eyelids. His touch was so light, so gentle, yet so arresting. His mouth was the only thing stopping her from floating away. Then he reached across the dressing table and picked up the mottled box she'd noticed when she arrived. Opening it, he offered it to her. "It's for you."