Zazz, Riku and V, who was solo until Paris, decided they could last a few more hours, but the others slunk away. Including Hunter. Why should he waste his time here when he could be fucking Sabina?
Chapter Seven
Back at the hotel, Hunter whisked Sabina into their room and started undressing her. “Not had enough of me?” she asked, teasing him. It only reminded him they didn’t have much time before he had to leave for the next gig.
“No,” he said as he stripped off her jeans. He glanced around the room and found what he was looking for before returning his attention to her. He paused, his hands on her bare hips. All she wore was her underwear. “Hungry? We didn’t stop to eat.”
“I’m fine. Room service later.”
“Chocolate dessert?” He loved the way she flushed when he said that. They hadn’t even done anything with the dessert yet, only thought about it. Watching her, never taking his attention from her face, he picked up the phone and ordered room service.
He could imagine a few things. Did she like the idea? Time to find out. She looked edible herself, standing in the center of the room, dressed only in a pretty lavender silk bra and panties and nothing else. He made a twirling motion with his fingers. Obligingly, she turned around. His mouth went dry and he had to swallow. The hollow of her back urged him to lick, taste, and then curve his hand into the delectable shape while he pressed her as close as he could get her. The panties creased into her buttocks, caught in the cleft between, outlining her stunning shape.
She turned back. “Did you say anything?”
“No.” Though he might have groaned, he wasn’t sure. He beckoned to her, a sultan to his slave, except he was the one under a thrall. This time he wouldn’t deny what they had. When the tour had finished, he’d come back for her.
Smiling, she came to him, taking her time, her saunter emphasizing her graceful movements. She shook her hair, a curtain of midnight drawing his gaze. When she got to him, the person on the end of the phone answered, asking him for his order, and for a few seconds, he couldn’t remember. “Chocolate dessert,” she whispered, and he marveled at her control over the pitch of her voice.
“Chocolate dessert,” he said, and patiently listened to the list of chocolate desserts on offer, while he let his hand trace the path his gaze had followed a moment earlier. He smoothed his palm over the sweet shape of her back, drinking in the silken texture of her skin. And that after a hurried and less than adequate shower at the venue.
This room, decorated in shades of brown and amber, didn’t suit her like the room in the hotel at Stockholm had, with its black and blue décor. Sabina was made for clear, cold colors, her pale skin reflecting their purity.
He ordered a little of everything because none of the recital meant much to him. Then he remembered to add a selection of sandwiches to his order and a dry white wine. He hung up.
“What shall we do until the food arrives?” He turned her to face him and dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose. “Can you think of anything?”
She shook her head, her hair swirling. Taking a strand between his fingers, he let it thread through. “You’re made of silk. Your skin, your hair, everything.”
“Thank you.” She paused and grinned cheekily. “I think.”
Cupping her cheek, he bent his head to kiss her. Every time they seemed to move closer, their tongues coiling against each other in harmony, knowing what the other liked. He licked the roof of her mouth, a neglected place but a sensitive one, and she responded by moving closer, nestling her breasts against his chest. Her nipples, already hard, pushed against him, urging him to do more, to arouse her until she couldn’t take any more. The trouble was, he didn’t know if he could last that long.
One kiss melded into another and another. Lost in her, he pulled her close, pressing their bodies together from breast to thigh, groaning when she undulated against him. He undid the clasp on her bra and the garment fell open but not off, because he didn’t want to separate them for that long. She pushed his T-shirt up and explored his back with hands that trembled. She wanted him as much as he did her.
If room service had taken longer than ten minutes, he’d have been inside her. As it was, they ran it close. She hurried into the bathroom when he answered the door, her modesty adorable and precious.
He saw what he wanted on the cart, and by the time she returned, he had it in his hand. A glass dish of something gooey and chocolaty, with two spoons inserted in either side. Having lost the bra, she came back to him, her pretty breasts moving with her, and he watched with rising appreciation. He’d taken off his t-shirt but still had his jeans on. She wore only her panties. Far too much for his liking.
He took one of the spoons out of the dessert, tasted it and made a sound of appreciation. “It’s very good, but it needs something extra.” He grinned, deciding to see if orders turned her on. She’d be sure to tell him if they didn’t.
“You. Take off your panties.” He glanced around, deciding on the setting. “Go into the bathroom and get one of the towels. Come back, spread it over that sofa,” he indicated the amber upholstered item of furniture gracing this part of the room, “and sit on it. Legs wide apart. I’m going to eat you, baby, eat you all up.” Already his mouth watered.
Her gaze heated to boiling point, the brown lighting with arousal. He loved that look. She said nothing, only did as he demanded. Slipped off her panties and left them on the floor, went into the bathroom and returned with a soft, ivory-colored towel. Turning her back, she took her time arranging it, standing with her legs apart. When she bent to smooth creases out of the towel, he glimpsed her pussy, glistening with her juices.
Enough. Dropping to his knees behind her, he pressed one hand against her back, preventing her from straightening. “Stay there.” She couldn’t hear him, couldn’t read him because there was no reflective surface for her to see. But she got the message.
The chocolate had some viscosity to it, but it was thicker than the juice she was producing for him. He dipped the spoon, then held it up over her back, watching the mixture land on her spine. She shivered. The dessert must have been refrigerated before being put into the chilled glass that held it. The change in temperature and the texture would entice her. The chocolate slid down toward the cleft between her buttocks. It never got there because he lapped it up. It tasted good, but not as good as her. Her aroma wreathed around him, womanly, irresistible, like apples and spice, laced with the musk of arousal.
When he dipped the spoon back in the dish, her soft sigh drifted into his senses like the finest guitar chord, the most subtle melody Riku could lay down. Hunter scoffed at the thought. Even Riku couldn’t rival this, couldn’t get close.
Taking his time, he daubed her pussy with chocolate. Some of it dripped, but he just put more chocolate in place. He wouldn’t have objected to wrecking the sofa, but he knew she would so he’d given her the concession of a towel.
She had her fists clenched, propped on the seat, holding her upright. She’d have to stay there a while, but if she sagged, he’d catch her. He’d always catch her.
Sweet. The scent of good chocolate blended with her own and he couldn’t wait to taste her, but he deliberately took care painting her, using the back of the spoon as a spatula, drawing the edge gently through to make patterns which, sadly, the mixture wasn’t firm enough to hold for more than a few seconds. He wanted the anticipation, to drive them both to the screaming point. His mouth watered.
Her soft sighs and moans, hardly audible, told him what his game was doing to her. He drew the spoon along the center, pulled it back and circled the entrance before licking the bowl clean and reversing it, using the rounded end now. He drew more patterns but with more purpose, concentrating on her most sensitive parts, her clit and further back, the slit that led to heaven. His cock felt heavy in his pants, but he ignored it as well as he could. He wanted to play.
Her ass tempted him, two plump peaches with the occasional daub of chocolate where the spoon
had dripped. He licked the concoction off one buttock, letting the tip of his tongue linger. Then he went to work.
He had to bend farther and tip back his head to reach her properly. As he took his first taste of chocolate-flavored Sabina, she sank down, resting on her elbows on the seat of the sofa instead of her hands. The action pushed her ass farther up and out toward him. She had to shift back to give herself space, but that meant her pussy hovered over his mouth now.
Disdaining hesitation, he feasted. Slurping and sipping, he sucked off the dessert, first from her outer lips, beautifully smooth and bare, then the insides, which tasted more of her than chocolate. He paused at her clit, sucking and shaping the small pearl of flesh, swirling his tongue around it to get every morsel of the dessert. No part of her skin would remain untasted. Her moans increased in volume, and he knew she’d given up the iron control she kept over her voice, and rejoiced that he could do that to her. He wanted more.
Chocolate spread. He’d put it on every rider from now on. Even if she wasn’t there, the taste would always remind him of her, and he could get a less than perfect reminder, like Proust’s madeleines. Murder City Ravens liked Proust, wanted to do a song about the madeleine scene. This might help, except he wouldn’t describe it in detail. Only how it felt.
He’d cleaned every part of her pussy except one and he turned to it now with gusto. Circling at first, he swept the chocolate confection into his mouth, then ringed her opening before pushing his tongue as deep inside as he could and sucking on her. Only peach now, no chocolate, but he didn’t give a fuck. Although he would in a minute. Give a fuck, that was.
She cried out. She was close, and he felt the juices increase and subtly change in taste. Muskier, less sharp. Pinching her clit between a finger and thumb, he heard her cries, wordless begging.
Triumph roared through him when she screamed and her pussy clenched around his tongue, squeezing so tightly it made his cock jerk in his pants. No, not yet. He wouldn’t come. Thank all the gods that he’d stuffed a condom into his jeans pocket back at the venue, wanting to be prepared for whenever, knowing he couldn’t go too much longer without taking her again.
He stood and shed his jeans before slipping an arm around her waist to hold her steady while he got inside. Taking his cock in his other hand, he guided it to her. He soaked the grateful head in her juices, swirling it around to gather up enough lubrication to drive hard and sure deep inside, not stopping until she took every inch he had to give her.
His balls swung heavily against her body. Sabina cried his name. Never had “Hunter!” sounded so good, so special.
Giving her no mercy, he pounded into her. He wanted her coming again before he finally let go, so he reached forward with one hand and tweaked a nipple. He pulled it out then twisted it, hearing her cries and moans. They told him she didn’t want gentle and considerate. Just as well, because he wasn’t in a gentle and considerate mood. Hard, relentless fucking worked better for him right now.
He found her clit with his other hand, keeping up the relentless rhythm. When she cried out, “No, no, no, no, no,” he prepared to stop. It would kill him but he refused to hurt her, but when he slowed his steady drives, she cried out again.
“Don’t stop, please, I’m close!” She used such a guttural, nasal tone of voice that he knew she’d lost it. She wasn’t careful around him now, something he’d wanted from the start of their renewed relationship. He wasn’t fucking walking away this time.
He wanted her to hear the way their bodies met, the wet slapping and the sucking of flesh as she grew increasingly wet. Hard and true, he angled his body back a tad and she wailed his name. Aha, he’d found it. No stopping now.
Hunter adored the way she screamed his name when she climaxed. Her body convulsed so tightly he thought she might cut his dick off, and fuck if he cared, as long as she didn’t push him away. Not fucking likely. Now he exhaled a breath and a grunt with every stroke, until he was crying her name too, and pouring his essence into her.
Oh yeah. Fuck, yeah.
Even better, he only had to tilt her sideways and she fell onto the sofa, the seat just broad enough for him to tuck his body against hers, draw her into him in the game of spoons.
If he could only do this for the foreseeable future, he’d die a happy man.
*
Sabina came to in the shower. Still in a dreamlike state from her orgasms, she’d let him lead her into the bathroom and do the practical stuff. Then he held her against him while warm water poured down on them both. That had been amazing. She’d never allowed anyone to fuck her like that before—take her so she couldn’t see straight. Doing it that way made her feel helpless, out of control, two things she normally hated. But this time she’d loved every motherfucking minute.
Why didn’t worry her. She knew why. She trusted Hunter as she’d never trusted a sex partner before. She’d known him a long time and the only thing he’d ever done to upset her, the big, elephant-in-the-room thing, had been walking out and not coming back. Now he’d explained and apologized she understood, kinda, but something niggled at her about it. Out of character? No, not really. He’d have done it if he thought it was for their own good—his and hers.
She filed the thought away in favor of savoring the amazing way he’d taken control, licked her into a near coma and then fucked her back to life. Now, his big, soapy hands running over her body, her libido came back to sleepy arousal. Not demanding, more “wouldn’t it be nice” thoughts. But between her legs, she felt used and a bit sore. A feast of fucking after a period of abstinence would do that. Especially with a big man, and Hunter was big in every way.
He’d taken her, used her, but oh, she wished he would use her like that all the time. He had a talented mouth. When she lifted her chin and told him so, he threw back his head and shouted with laughter. His throat opened to let the volume through before he looked back at her so she could read his words easily. “I love the way you taste. It’s a shame I can’t live on you alone.”
The thought made her shudder and she remained in delicious contemplation of the sucking and fucking. She’d never liked doggy style because she couldn’t tell if she was speaking properly, and she couldn’t sign because she needed her hands to support her body. This time, she just let him do it, only adjusting her position to get his cock where it worked best inside her. She let it out, giving herself permission to sound odd because she knew he’d understand. She’d had more hearing boyfriends than deaf ones, and both could be condemning in different ways, but Hunter wasn’t. Had never been. Their first hookup had been furtive, fast and immensely exciting but not lasting. No time to explore, to experiment. Now they could explore each other’s bodies properly.
This time she knew the score and she was up for anything. Almost anything. She stared up at him as he smiled down at her, their connection, as always, seamless and instant. “That was good,” she said.
“Fucking-A. Better than good, sweetheart.” Oh, she liked that endearment. As usual when they were together, they spoke English and, as usual, she wanted to hear his accent. From the way his lips shaped the words, she thought he didn’t have one, or very slight. He’d already told her she had an accent. “I don’t want to say goodbye this time.”
“You promised to write.”
He shook his head, then quietly put the soap down on its dish, concentrating entirely on her, so she knew this was important. “Not that. I want this, us, together. The band is in Europe for a while now. We don’t go back to the States until the fall. I want at least until then.”
“Why?” Her life would change, and who knew what would happen then?
“Because I think we have more than sex, fantastic though that is. I care about you, Sabina.”
“We’ve always been friends.” She couldn’t think of anything else to say because she didn’t know what he meant. Didn’t dare think about it.
“Don’t put a block on it.”
“I have to.” She bit her lip, then grabbed the
shampoo and poured a puddle into her palm. This intensity made her nervous and she wanted time to distance herself.
He took her hand and washed the shampoo off under the stream. “Don’t, please. Just listen. I always wanted you, and when I left, I couldn’t promise anything so I thought a break was best.” She concentrated on his face, his blue eyes vivid even here, where visibility was limited by the frosted glass panels. They hadn’t bothered to put the light on inside the shower cubicle as it was eye-stinging bright and the bathroom light gave her enough visibility to lip-read. “Will you let me come to see you at least while we’re in Europe? Maybe longer, if we both want to?”
“What do you mean? The operation and the aftercare means I can’t travel much. I won’t be able to fly for a long time if the operation’s successful. They’ve already warned me about that.”
“I don’t mind doing the traveling. We’re playing Copenhagen next, so that’s a small hop. I can come right back after. Then we have a gap until Berlin. In Europe, it’s rarely more than two hours, and we have a chartered plane. I can use that sometimes.” He huffed a laugh when he saw the expression on her face. “I know, but Chick says the convenience and the promo make it worthwhile.”
Her eyes rounded. “You can’t be that rich.”
He gave an embarrassed laugh. “Actually, I am. We’re democratic, and we share songwriting credits as well as everything else. We wanted to cut Chick in, but he just takes his manager’s fee. This tour is making us richer. It’s amazing.” He scratched his head. “I need a financial manager.”
She laughed. “Don’t look at me.”
“I like looking at you.” His voice softened. “I love it.”
She wasn’t ready to hear any more. Her feelings for him were too close to love. Crossing the barrier, if there was a barrier, instead of slow growth, terrified her. “We can’t last.”
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