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Sinners at the Altar (Sinners on Tour #6)(3)
Author: Olivia Cunning

Sliding her hands up the smooth skin of Brian’s back, she pressed a trail of kisses along his collarbone. “How many hours before I get to be Mrs. Sinclair?”

“We have to get a marriage license; that will probably take twenty minutes or so.” He burrowed his hands into her hair and tilted her head back to sample her lips with tender, sucking kisses. “After that? As soon as you’re ready.”

“I’d say immediately, but I want to look pretty for you.”

“You look damn fine in this robe, Professor.”

“And you look damn fine in nothing, Master Sinclair.”

The feel of his warm skin and firm muscles beneath her eager hands had her reconsidering her earlier decision to make him wait until that night. The Beast didn’t want to wait either; Brian’s cock rose hard and thick against her belly. She grabbed her fiancé’s ass with both hands to pull him closer. He produced a sound, half groan/half growl, that made her pussy throb with need.

“I’m going to wear a skirt and spend the entire day without any panties on,” she whispered in his ear.

“You can’t expect me to control myself knowing that.”

Her hand slid down the ridge of his hipbone. His thigh. Up the inside of his leg. She brushed the side of her hand over his balls, and he tensed.

“If you don’t stop that, I’m going to fuck you right here,” he said.

She repeated the motion. “Oh yeah?”

He pressed her up against the flimsy wall next to the bathroom door. His cock rubbed against the inside of her thigh, and she shuddered. Yes, Brian, take me right here.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Sed grumbled from his bunk just past the bathroom door.

“Sorry, did we wake you?” Myrna murmured.

Brian nuzzled her neck and ground his cock against her mound.

“Who can sleep with all the lovey, lovey, kissy, screw-me talk three feet from your head?” The usual smoothness of the singer’s baritone was uncommonly raspy this morning and his demeanor even grumpier than usual.

“Jace for one,” Brian said.

Myrna chuckled. Sinners’ young bassist did like his sleep.

Myrna peeked over Brian’s shoulder and found Jace unconscious in the top bunk. His cute stubble-adorned face was squashed against the mattress. His bleached hair lay limp instead of poking out in its usual spikes. Endearing was the word Myrna would use to describe Jace Seymour. And kinky. Or so she gathered based on tidbits she’d heard from groupies and what she’d seen in his suitcase of carnal delights.

“I think he had a rough night,” Sed grumbled and cleared his throat with a wince. “He got in late and passed out in his bunk without even taking off his boots.”

Or removing his leather jacket, Myrna noted with a grin.

She snuggled closer to Brian with her chin resting on his shoulder as they waited for the bathroom. Around here, someone always seemed to be waiting for the bathroom.

“You guys should consider staying in a hotel when the bus is parked,” she said. “Aren’t there around a million hotel rooms in this city?”

She’d grown accustomed to the close quarters of the bus while touring with the band for her research project, but after sharing a bathroom with five guys, she deserved a trophy or a medal or something.

A pair of grass-green eyes peered at her from the bottom bunk across the way. She was glad to see Trey awake. She’d been worried about him. Some overzealous bouncer had cracked him in the back of the head with a ball bat the night before, but he looked better than Brian did this morning, so he must be all right. She smiled at him, but he didn’t return the smile. His gaze wasn’t focused on her. It was zeroed in on Brian’s bare ass. Trey’s tongue rubbed against his upper lip, and Myrna could only imagine where his thoughts had drifted. A seed of jealousy sprouted in her chest, and she ran her hands over Brian’s smooth ass cheeks. She grinned triumphantly when Brian’s ever-attentive cock jerked against her belly.

Brian was hers—every inch of him—and Trey damned well better not forget it.

Trey closed his eyes and rolled onto his opposite side, presenting his back to her.

The bathroom door slid open, and Eric emerged. “All finished!” he announced, as if he expected a smiley face sticker for his accomplishment.

Brian turned his head toward the bathroom and took a hesitant sniff. Apparently finding the place nontoxic, he tugged Myrna into the small room. The bathroom door slid shut, and Myrna’s robe landed on the floor an instant later.

“Alone at last.” Brian filled both hands with her breasts, massaging gently. His dark eyes were glassy with lust as he watched his thumbs brush against her stiff nipples. “You know the idea of making love to my wife is enough to push me beyond control. You don’t have to tease me all day to make me crazy.”

She grinned at him and hopped up onto the vanity. “Good, because I don’t want to wait all day. I want your wickedly fast fingers against me—inside me—right now.” She leaned back against the cold vanity mirror, bent her knees, and rested her feet on the countertop, opening herself wide to her lover. Her fiancée. Her soon-to-be husband. “Make me come, baby. Make my pussy beg you to fill it.”

“Can I taste you first?”

She didn’t respond, just grabbed two fistfuls of his shoulder-length black hair and tugged his head between her legs.

He inhaled deeply. “Oh fuck, baby. You smell like sex.”

His tongue slid inside her, and she watched him trace her opening. Around, around, around, until she had to close her eyes from overstimulation. He pressed two fingers inside her, and she strained against them, craving his big, thick cock already. His fingers pulled free to spread her juices over her throbbing clit.

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