He stroked the back of her leather-clad thighs with one warm hand.
That felt good, really good, and the way he had her positioned, her leather hipsters were pulled tight into her pussy, driving her crazy. Focus, she told herself. You might be in an intensely physical and compromised situation, but be sensible and use your head.
"Okay, it was wrong of me to come down here," she admitted, waving one hand. "But I only wanted an autograph for a friend, an injured friend who couldn't make it. I didn't mean to do anything else, honestly."
"Oh, but you did. You were a naughty girl, and you'll be punished." He gave a rumbling laugh and then set off. His hands were locked tightly around the back of her thighs.
She swore aloud. Her boobs were almost out of her top now and she felt as if the whole world was looking at her. The corridor shifted in her vision and two pairs of feet came into view—presumably Clayton and Jay.
"You can't be serious," she pleaded, forcing her head up, looking at the two men who looked on with amusement as she was carried off like some primeval caveman's prize. "I don't deserve to be treated like this." That seemed to make them laugh even more. They had to be kidding. She was about to beg to be put down when she was smacked across the bottom by one large hand.
"Bad girl," her captor bellowed, chuckling to himself.
Any notion of using her head was lost in an instant. Heat leapt out from the spot he'd spanked, spreading across the top of her thighs and shooting deep, right into her core. Her heart missed a beat. She struggled for breath. She shuddered and moaned, her clit tingling with heat. Liquid fire poured out of her core and her body went boneless with lust, falling limp over his shoulder. She clutched at his jacket with trembling fingers, her mind echoing with the primitive call of instinctive need: take me, use me, fill me.
The crowd faded away, everything faded away as he carried her off down a corridor, where the light grew dim and all she was aware of was him—his massive presence and his control over her. I want him. Somewhere at the back of her mind the Mission Impossible theme started up again.
* * * *
Tommy Sampson was surprised, to say the least. Usually by this point they were thumping and kicking and bemoaning the fact they were being taken away from their beloved Clayton. It was a familiar scenario, but this woman was making panting noises and wriggling around as if she were on the brink of an orgasm.
She was a sexy number too. When she'd run slap bang into him and he'd grabbed hold of her, he was instantly reminded of the cover of a Modesty Blaise novel that he'd kept by his bedside as a teenager. He'd liked the cover model who represented the sexy female secret agent, and had held onto the book nearby for weeks after he'd finished reading it. He hadn't thought of it in years, but this woman had stimulated the memory. That wasn't all she had stimulated.
She looked good in those leather pants, and her breasts shifting against him under her skimpy top instantly made him think of sex. Right now heat was pouring off her in waves. She smelled good too, sexy, a mixture of perfume and hormones.
"You are in big trouble, madam. Nobody gets past me during the last encore." He gave her another spank as he walked down the corridor towards one of the hidden exits at the back of the building. He couldn't resist it.
She wriggled against him, making another dirty-sex noise. Yup, she was turned on, unmistakably turned on. He couldn't help smiling. Normally his he-man act sent them off in a rush of humiliation. He'd worked for Clayton during his tours for the last three years, and he'd got the act down to a fine art by the end of the first tour. With the real bad cases, the ones who got into the dressing rooms like this one had, Clayton played into it as well, which usually worked a treat for sending them on their way.
The corridor was dingy, the overhead light-bulb weak and flickering. He didn't really want to put her down at all, but they had reached the security door at the back of the building. The door opened on to a narrow alleyway, which led a convoluted path back onto the main street. He just had to enter the code into the keypad, and she could be on her merry way.
"Here you go, Madam." He eased her down a fraction, so that she could straighten up in his grip, and then paused. He could have just put her feet down on the floor, but this was too much fun. He wanted to savor lowering her. Her body was toned under his hands and he mused that she would make a great gym partner.
She was secure, but she clutched at him, her hands going to his shoulders as she straightened. She shook her hair back. Short and thick, it fell back into place around her head. Her face was flushed, her eyes glinting in the gloomy light. Her wide mouth was open, her lips damp. She looked like a cat about to pounce.
He paused, staring up at her. His spine stiffened, a dull ache at its base working its way into his consciousness. Unsurprisingly, he was getting hard. He had a whole lot of woman in his arms, after all, and she was looking good. Her breasts were just under his chin, her hips against his belly. It was a recipe for arousal.
She let out a soft laugh. "That was quite a ride." She arched one slim eyebrow.
"You weren't supposed to enjoy it, my dear." He couldn't restrain his grin.
She wriggled in his grasp, but clutched tighter. "I thought you might be enjoying it too." She bit her lip, an action that made her even more sexy looking.
"I am." Savoring each moment, he eased her down, his hands shifting around her hips. She definitely wasn't wearing a bra, and her nipples were hard inside that top of hers. When his hands reached her buttocks, he cupped them.
She moved her hands, latching her fingers around his head, and then—to his astonishment—she opened her legs and wrapped them around his hips.
She doesn't want you to put her down, bozo.
The fact hit him like a freight train, and then some other form of rationale took over: instinct. He turned, wedging her back against the closed door, jamming his hips between her open legs.
"What's the matter, afraid to let go?" he teased. He leaned into her hair, smelling her.
"I like it here." She leaned back against the door, pivoting against it and riding her pussy up and down against the growing erection inside his jeans.
He groaned.
"Do you have to rush off?" She had her hands in his hair and, as she moved them, she brushed the secret, sensitive spot below his left ear that sent him off the rails with lust. Blood rushed to his groin. His heart hammered in his chest, his hips rolled into hers.
"Rushing off anywhere isn't an option right now," he managed to mutter, and leaned into her neck, his mouth against her skin. He could feel her breath warm on his face. He traced a path with his mouth down toward her jaw.
Her head sank back in response.
He kissed the skin beneath her ear. She smelt of jasmine, and desire, unmistakable. He could hear the withheld whimper in her throat, and he could sense her reactions coursing over her skin. Her hands were on his shoulder, drawing him in. She was hot, responsive. She was everything that made his blood turn to fire and his lust palpable. He breathed his way to her jaw and then she turned her mouth into his, meeting him.
Her mouth was soft but active, an explosive combination, her lips moved against his, hungrily, then she opened her mouth, her tongue teasing his into her mouth.
He staggered, his grip on her buttocks failing.
She slid to the floor but clutched at him, not breaking the kiss.
His hands moved up and to her top. He felt her breathing grow shallow as he ran his hands over the outline of her breasts under the soft fabric.
She shivered, leaning back and looking up at him. Reaching down and stroking her hand against his dick, she gave a husky laugh. "That's a good, solid package you've got there."
When she touched him like that, he couldn't think straight. "You're a bad girl."
"Does that mean you're going to spank me again?"
He groaned, and pushed her against the door. "I think you deserve it, don't you?"
"Maybe you're right." A wild streak was visible in h
er expression.
"You like playing rough, do you?" Logic was gone. His dick had well and truly taken over his brain.
"You better believe it." She moved, stretching up to him, grazing his chin with her teeth. Her hands were measuring him up—back, shoulders, and biceps—while she kissed his neck. Her breasts, pert and high under her top, made his hands gravitate toward them.
He reached under it, his thumbs stroking her nipples until they were hard and jutting. He wanted to fuck her right there and then, up against the wall, rough and ready.
You vowed never to get involved with groupies, his conscience reminded him. She wanted Clayton. You're just a convenient second choice for a woman in heat. But she was all over him, so inviting, and his body was tuning his conscience out.
Her hands gripped his buttocks, digging into them roughly, pulling him closer.
He ground hard against her. He had condoms in his wallet, a three-pack. He wanted to use them all, in quick succession. The sudden sound of a mobile phone ringing interrupted that chain of thought, grounding him somewhat as he tried to work out where the sound was coming from.
She pulled her head back and raised one perfectly arched eyebrow. "Is that a vibrator in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?"
When she laughed her nipples bounced, the hard little nubs poking through the fabric of her top, drawing his attention. He ran his thumbs over them, unable to resist.
"Oh I'm pleased to see you, but I think the vibrations are coming from your side." Probably a boyfriend or husband, he realized, waiting outside. He'd seen it before, women coming backstage while their boyfriends waited outside. It didn't make any sense to him. He eased away from her.
She fumbled for her hip pocket.
He had to ask. "Boyfriend?" He stepped back, giving her space.
"No, I'm single. What about you, have you got a boyfriend?" She laughed softly. "Or is that just Clayton's thing?"
Damn. He was hoping there hadn't been anything going on when she was in the dressing room. It had to happen eventually, he figured. Clayton and Jay's affair had been going on for months and they'd got away with it so far through sheer luck. "You saw them together?"
She pulled the phone out of her pocket. "I take it it's a secret?"
That sense of humor of hers was mischievous. He nodded. He was going to have to speak to her, talk her out of going to the press if it was at all possible. They weren't ready for that kind of exposure yet and might never be. Clayton had only confided in him because they needed his understanding and vigilance, but Clayton had also confided he was afraid the truth would ruin his career.
He reached over and punched the key code into the door, pushing it open to get some air. He needed to clear his head.
"I better get this, it's my housemate. I came to the gig with her and she's probably wondering where I am." She flicked the phone open and moved into the doorway, but kept one hand on his shoulder, maintaining the contact between them.
She'd said there was no boyfriend. It was a relief to find he hadn't just been mauling some other man's woman. He glanced over her. Her Doc Marten boots made him smile. She wasn't like the other groupies. He didn't seem to be clearing his head after all. The more he looked at her, the more he wanted her.
"Hi, Helen. Yes, I'm fine." She sidled a glance over his torso as she spoke, as if weighing her thoughts and words carefully. Her hand moved inside his jacket, down and across his chest while her gaze held his.
The way she handled him so confidently made him want to throw her on her back and climb all over her, in fact if she hadn't been talking on the phone, she'd be back up against the wall in a flash.
"No, I didn't get the autograph." She ran her hand over the bulge of his dick. "But something else just as exciting came up." She fixed him with a wicked stare.
Hot. He latched his hands around her hips, pulling her against him, needing that warm shape of her groin against his dick again.
She leaned back in his grip, pivoting her hips against his, the expression in her eyes inviting him in.
"Don't worry, I'm okay. I'm getting to know a new friend." Her free hand went up to his neck and she pulled him down for a quick kiss before continuing her conversation.
"Why don't you make your way home, and I'll catch up with you there later on?" She laughed softly in response to whatever the woman on the other end of the phone said. "Oh, I will." Flapping the phone shut she pushed it back into that tight hip pocket of hers.
They watched each other silently a moment. She'd put her cards on the table. Her words had been as much for him as her friend.
Voices passed by the end of the alleyway. She glanced after them, then back at him. The moonlight caught her expression. There was wildness in her eyes and it triggered something inside him. All thoughts of avoiding groupies were vanishing from his mind. She didn't have a boyfriend, that's all that really mattered. She wanted him, and she was hotter than hell. Besides, he could maybe talk her out of blabbing about Clayton, if he got her alone for a while. His mind was just about functioning enough to latch on to that reason to pursue her. His dick had its own agenda.
"My name is Kelly." She reached out for his hands. Drawing them towards her she put them back on her waist, where they'd been earlier.
"Tommy," he murmured, as he ran his hands under her top again, pushing it up. Her bare breasts in his hands compelled him to stroke and mold the soft warm flesh.
"So, Tommy, do you have to get back to Clayton?" Her voice was a whisper, her eyelids lowering as his hands moved over her breasts.
"No, there's a party here onsite, my work is done." Her top was gathering on the back of his hands, he could see the soft underside of her breasts and bent to suck her nipple through the fabric, partly to stop himself from exposing her completely.
She whimpered.
He growled.
"Shall we go somewhere?" She had one hand up against the doorframe to steady them both. "Because otherwise we might be charged with indecent exposure in a public thoroughfare."
He couldn't help laughing. She had a reckless way about her that was infectious. "Fast mover, aren't you?"
She shrugged. "Life is short."
She was so right. The physical desire she'd created in him was powerful, demanding fulfillment.
"You're not afraid of getting up close and friendly with some guy you've just met?"
"I teach self-defense classes, mister. If anyone should be afraid, you should." Her quirky grin reassured him she was an adult with all her faculties.
He gave a slow nod, pleased with her response. There was a definite sense of inevitability about what was happening between them—there was no turning back—but he respected her attitude. She was the kind of strong, self-assured woman he was attracted to, but rarely met.
He reached out one finger to trace her jaw line. "I've got a hotel room a few streets away. It's an end-of-tour perk for after the party tonight."
"Wonderful...but, wouldn't I be keeping you from the party?" She looked closely at him as she asked, and there was a serious, intense look in her eyes then that made him crave more of her.
"Right now I'm more interested in the party we can make on our own." He was totally focused on her, and the party felt a million miles away. In fact, he couldn't have given a toss about what was going on in the hospitality suite, not anymore.
"We can always drop by later," he added, wondering at the same time if that was playing right into her plans to get backstage, but dismissing it just as quickly when her hand closed on his dick.
"In that case, let's go," she whispered, her eyes gleaming with devilment in the moonlight.
Chapter Two
The hotel was a compact, modern building, squeezed down a back street near Leicester Square. Kelly darted out of the elevator and along the corridor, until he snatched her back into his arms. Her heart raced, her blood pounded. He'd had his hands all over her, and now they were chasing after each other, practically bouncing off the walls as they
kissed and groped their way toward their destination.
"You're not going to get all rock and roll on me, and trash the joint?" she teased, when they tripped over a tray that someone had left outside a room, sending the empty teacups rattling in their saucers.
"I'm not that kind of roadie," he replied, with a wry smile, "but I do have music." He tapped his jacket over the inside breast pocket.
"Excellent." She kissed him again, briefly running her hands over his chest before backing away.
"Not so fast," he said as she tried to break free, locking her against the wall between two doorways.
Kelly glanced over his shoulder, catching sight of the room they were looking for. She laughed and nodded her head at the door behind him. "Your hotel room is behind you, mister."
Without looking, he turned around with her captured in his arms, and backed her towards the room, his powerful legs shifting hers.
For a woman as strong and independent as she tried to be, his power and attitude hit her like a force ten. The need for sexual combat and the desire to do battle with him ratcheted up inside her, sending her body into overdrive. She was powerfully aroused, ready to fuck hard.
Holding her up against the door, he rode his body up and down against hers.
"You must have liked it when I did that to you," she breathed. "You keep returning the favor."
"Too right," he answered, the corners of his mouth lifting.
She could feel the hard bones of his hips, the muscles of his thighs and his cock bulging as he moved against her. Her breath dashed out, the direct contact making her dizzy. Her head rolled from side to side. She flooded with unleashed lust—she had to have action soon. She reached out and gave his jaw a gentle bite. The shape of it was so appealing, she was constantly drawn to touch, kiss, and bite it.
Sex,Lies, and Bondage Tape Page 2