4 Play

by Quinn, Cari

  “Kids?” Logan sighed. “Never mind. I’m too tired to care.”

  Lindsey hooked her arm into Johnny’s and dragged him to the door. She turned back. “The security wrapped up the stragglers. You sure you two will be all right here alone?”

  She said it to the room, but Logan knew she was checking on Izzy.

  Izzy slipped away from him and climbed the stairs to the stage. “We’ll be fine. I can kick his ass if he gets out of line.”

  Lindsey’s laugh filled the room, echoing into the dark. Johnny swung the barn door shut. The silence was disarming. After hours of unending music, the silence felt too loud. He followed her up the side stairs, tracking her slow, swaying walk around the drum riser to his keyboard.

  She wore a flowing little dress that swished around her knees with every movement. As usual, she had on a killer pair of heels on that accentuated superb legs and did something to showcase her ass. An ass she’d rubbed against him on purpose.

  There was no doubt where this was going. A few nights ago he’d fought every instinct to get close to her, and now they were all clamoring in his head. The freedom to touch came with a million other problems.

  Namely, how was he going to stop?

  He moved to the portable board they’d been using to program the lights to go with the songs. He dimmed the lights to a soft glow and made a quick playlist of songs on his Mac. The final song made him smile as he pushed it to the top of the list.

  Gary Allan’s smoky voice and dirty guitar filled the space. Izzy turned from her inspection of the setlist and a slow smile teased her lips.

  “Our song?”

  “I couldn’t resist.”

  The click of her heels on the stage were slow and methodical as she walked toward him. The sway of her hips made his throat go dry. She lifted her arms up and fiddled with a clip in her hair. Instead of letting her dark hair free, she twisted it up, leaving the long, elegant lines of her neck unadorned.

  His feet were cemented to the stage. He didn’t realize just how much he wanted her to come to him until now. Without a lure, without an ulterior motive, without anything but hunger lighting those amazing eyes.

  She stopped in front of him, her hands resting on his shoulders as they slowly swayed together.

  “Touch me.”

  He closed his eyes as her jasmine scent hit him a moment before her breasts grazed his chest. He slid his palm over her hip to her bare back and up the silky dip of her spine. With his other arm he wrapped her close. Chest to chest, thigh to thigh, they swayed into a lazy spin.

  The brush of her forehead against his chin, the heat of her breath against his neck, the way she fit against him, all of it felt right. He trailed the tips of his fingers up her back to the nape of her neck. She was silky soft with just a hint of damp from the unrelenting heat. He curled his fingers into her hair and drew her head back enough to sip from her neck.

  Her skin was salty and warm. He traced the column of her neck to her collarbone and made a return trip up, scraping his teeth where she swallowed hard, then lighter over her chin to hover over her lips. He watched her eyes slit open as he flicked his tongue along her lower lip. Just the lightest touch.

  He breathed her in, accepting her hot breath and sweet moan. On the edge of his first real taste of her, he wanted to hold onto it, to resist her lure. He pulled away and bussed his lips along her cheek and along her jaw.

  The song spun out as the guitars grew darker, grittier. It suited his mood. He was already wound too tight to touch her. He wanted her taste inside of him so very badly. Denial seemed to be his only way out of this without going a little mad.

  Her hands slid down his shoulders and gripped his triceps. He twirled her away from him, then back—this time pressing her ass against his hips. Her quick indrawn breath rumbled into a groan as he fastened his mouth to the soft skin between her shoulder and neck. He nudged the strap of her dress aside and swirled his tongue around the slightly indented skin.

  He kept the sway of their bodies in time, letting her feel just how much she affected him. Palm flat on her lower belly, he used his other hand to stroke up her ribs to cup her breast. When she arched into his touch, he grew bolder, filling both hands with her firm breasts.

  “Tell me if I’m going too far.”

  “Not far enough.” She reached behind to cup his ass, molded her fingers over his thigh, and then around to his zipper.

  He groaned as she followed the line of his shaft pinned to him by the placket of his pants. She dropped her chin forward, exposing her neck to him. He followed the line of her spine, gripping her hips as he lowered to the delicate skin between her shoulder blades and dipped his tongue into the small of her back.

  He crouched behind her, coasting over the flare of her hips to her thighs and down to the hem of her dress. He slipped under her dress, scraped his fingers over the lightly muscled flesh of the backs of her thighs. The higher he climbed, the louder his heart slammed in his chest and reverberated in his ears.

  He dipped his thumbs along her inner thighs and opened her wider. “That’s it, Izzy. Open for me.”

  “Logan.”

  He drew his thumb along the elastic edges of her panties, drawing her dress higher until the curve of her ass was revealed. He traced his way to the front of her panties, mimicking the trail with his other thumb until he reached the front of the pale purple silk.

  She swayed once, then widened her stance. He rubbed his chin lightly along the hot, petal-soft skin where her cheek met thigh. He followed the line of her panties one more time, this time with his tongue.

  Soft, with a hint of salt, her skin was addictive. He returned to the center of her thighs and lapped at the cotton panel protecting her folds. The click of her heels was loud in the room as she shifted again. He smiled against the silk and lace and rolled them down the high curve of her ass.

  They dropped to the floor and she stepped free, kicking them to the side. Logan dragged his chin along the back of her thigh until the scrape of his stubble made her gasp out his name. When he got to the top, he dipped inside of her. Salt and heat and the fusion of Izzy’s taste exploded across his tongue.

  He slid his hands to the front of her thighs and held her still. Now that her taste was inside him, he was starved for it. He braced one arm across her thighs, shoved her dress up, and tipped her forward. With more access, he buried his tongue deeper. Needing more, he drank from her until the sounds of her moans rivaled the wetness coating his chin.

  She swayed again and he stood, dragging her back against him as he feasted on her neck and brought his hand up to cup her.

  “God, so wet.” He scraped his teeth over her earlobe. He curled two fingers along the front of her pussy. She was swollen and greedy for his touch. He wanted to delve inside again, to feel that sucking warmth, but he knew it wouldn’t stop there.

  Instead he stroked her high, tight clit. Again and again. Until her head thrashed against his chest, and her thighs quaked.

  “Izzy.”

  She moaned and the sound rolled into a broken cry as she came apart for him.

  He held her, soothed her as she shuddered against him. He buried his nose into her hair. Jasmine and the earthy soap she used he could handle. It didn’t make him any less hard, but it wasn’t that honeyed scent of her. The scent that he’d hold onto and hope to God wouldn’t make him insane in the process.

  She closed her fingers over his hand, the nails no longer digging as her breath slowed. Her other hand slid between them, cupping his cock.

  He pressed his cheek against hers. “I’m good.”

  “Yeah, you are.”

  He grinned, shocked that he could with his mind so full of her and his cock aching. “That was for you.”

  “I totally won the orgasm lottery.”

  This time he couldn’t stop at a grin, but laughed outright. He brushed his mouth over her ear, tugging on the lobe as he slid his fingers over her folds. “If I’d known making you come would result in s
uch a good mood, I would have done it days ago.”

  She groaned. “And here we were, fighting it.” She held his hand still when he went for a longer stroke. “I can’t.”

  “Now don’t make it a challenge, Izzy. That’s not the way to get me to stop.” He widened his fingers to frame her slick clit between them and rubbed slowly until the webbing of his palm buzzed over the top.

  Her back arched and he held on as her hips twitched in reaction. “Logan.”

  Christ, he’d never get the way she said his name out of his head. Like it was being torn out of her throat. As if she was fighting it the whole way.

  He dragged her dress strap down and pushed at her strapless bra until there was nothing but skin. Satiny cool with a tight, pale pink nipple. Her breast was a lighter color in relation to the tan of her skin. He plucked the distended tip, twisting lightly as he continued to stroke her clit.

  Her hand came up to his hair and scraped up the tightly shorn hair to the longer strands on top, then gripped tightly, dragging his mouth down to her shoulder.

  “Yes,” he growled and rubbed harder, increasing the pressure on her nipple.

  The panting scream rocked him. He sucked on the sensitive flesh at her neck and held on. She stumbled away from him, a sob exploding from her.

  “Izzy.” He went after her and she held up a hand.

  “Wait, just…You gotta.” She bent at the waist and pieces of her pinned hair fell forward. “God.” She ran a shaking hand through her hair. “Freaking guitarist. There’s no other explanation.”

  He clasped his hands at the back of his head. “I’m not sure what that means.”

  She laughed, but it came out more like a shaky squeak. “No one should be able to do that first time out of the gate. Stupid, destructive, dexterous fingers.” She panted and curled her arm across her belly.

  He wanted to go to her, but had no idea what had set her off. Had he done something wrong? Read her wrong?

  She flipped her strap up and did something under her dress, then tugged out her bra. She threw it over with her underwear. Without a word, she stalked across the space between them and dragged his head down to meet her desperate mouth.

  There was no softness, just a raw meeting of mouths and tongues. He wrapped his arms around her, lifting her up, so she could hook her legs around his middle. With a groan, he filled his hands with her ass. The kiss was brutal. They couldn’t seem to get enough. Sliding tongues, the nip of teeth along his lower lip only to have her lave her tongue over the pulsing flesh in the next moment.

  He staggered over to the guitar trunk for balance, setting her on the edge. She tightened her grip on his middle, angling her bare pussy against his slacks. He could feel the heat along his shaft. Just a flip of buttons and zipper and he could be inside her. Driving her against the nicked edges of his guitar trunk.

  Of all the things he’d done, banging a woman against his guitars was a new one. Hell, on stage was a new one. Backstage…well, that had been done a lifetime ago, but on stage?

  Where the heart of his music had come alive again with a spotlight above them. The need climbed higher, twisting his brain into a relentless fantasy. Her tan legs spread wide, his cock disappearing into her heat, her cries as he pounded into her.

  Fuck, he wanted that.

  He needed to feel her gripping walls around his cock instead of just his fingers. Her strap was falling down her shoulder as she pulled away. Her mouth was ripe from his stubble and rough mouth.

  He cupped her face and forced himself to slow down as he brushed his thumb over her lower lip. “You better stop me now.” He lowered his mouth to hers, sucking her tongue into his mouth, inhaling her breathy sigh. Breaking the kiss, touching his forehead to hers, he hissed, “Stop me.”

  She shook her head and wrenched his slacks open. She reached in, her fingers firm on his throbbing length.

  “Fuck.”

  She grinned up at him as she swiped her thumb under and around his head. “Oh, yeah.”

  He tipped his head back with a low groan as she stroked him with a little twist at the end. His hips jerked forward, instinctively wanting more. “Izzy.”

  She tightened her grip. “Is it wrong that I want you on this stage?”

  His jaw tightened as he met her gaze. Disappointment was a kerosene flare in his chest. “A fantasy rock star fuck?”

  Her topaz eyes flashed. “Not a rock star fuck. You. I want you to fuck me. I want you inside me.” She bit his lower lip. “Just you.”

  “Here?”

  She nodded. “No more teasing. You put me in this state, now you better finish me off.”

  “You? You’ve got at least two orgasms to my none.”

  She reached into his pants and cupped his balls. “I’ll make it up to you.”

  He groaned, flipping out his wallet. Fuck, he hoped he had a damn condom. He really wasn’t the guy that carried it around in his billfold anymore. Sex hadn’t been on his radar in too many months to count.

  She went at his neck, a slow flick of her tongue up and around his Adam’s apple before she moved up to his chin. She hovered over his mouth as he fumbled in his wallet.

  “Tell me you have something.”

  He dug his fingers behind his credit cards, pulling them out one by one. They ticked and clicked their way across the floor. And still, she was relentless with her long strokes of his dick.

  She sat up straighter, her nose bumping his. “C’mon, magic condom. You’re a dude, you have to have one in there.”

  He felt around the bills, finding a receipt and a paper clip. He groaned as she traced a figure eight along the underside of his shaft. “Jesus. You’re killing me here.”

  “Do you realize how far it is to my apartment? To your cabin?” She scraped her teeth over his chin, flicking her tongue over the dent in his chin to the ridge below his lip and finally inside.

  He flipped his wallet open wide and finally felt the crinkled edge of a packet. He fisted her hair with his free hand, dragging her mouth away. Her neck exposed, her heaving chest with the tips of her nipples showing above the neckline of her dress, her dusky skin—all his to touch and take.

  He brought her knee up higher on his hip. “Last warning.”

  She lowered her head and he quickly loosened his grip on her hair. “Enough with the warnings. I’m a big girl. I want this.” She traced his lips with her tongue. “I want this.”

  He did, too. More than anything he could remember wanting. Except this barn. He wanted this place, this woman in his newfound place. His woman for as long as she allowed it.

  “And I like a good hair pull,” she said with sleepy eyes.

  He brushed her hands away and jerked the condom wrapper open, rolling it down his length. He backed up a step, taking her with him until she was on the very edge of the trunk.

  He pushed up the skirt of her dress, scraping his nails over her legs, his thumbs grazing her inner thighs. He gripped his cock and dragged the tip through her swollen folds.

  She shuddered and he groaned.

  He slowly tucked his head inside, pushing down slowly as she accepted him inch by inch. Slick and open, she tensed for a moment before hissing out a breath. She curled her fingers around his hips and pulled him forward.

  “Logan.”

  Again, that voice. The voice that would live in this barn, in his head, in his chest. He tried to block it out. He’d be done in a flash, if he focused on that voice. He groaned as she finally took all of him. Her walls rippled around his cock and he caught her mouth.

  Swallowing each groan as he rolled his hips against her. Shallow thrusts to keep himself in check. Tight little circles as he flexed his hips and ass, her fingers digging into his flanks. He pushed her open wider. He needed more.

  Each counter twist of her hips urged him for more. His body demanded more. His spine burned with the need to drive deep. But he kept it slow, reaching down between them to circle her clit.

  She raked her nails up under his shi
rt, then back down to his ass.

  “Logan.”

  Her voice.

  That voice.

  That tone.

  The rumble of her frustration finally unleashed the last barrier he’d held onto. He pulled out, then snapped his hips forward. Her head flew back as her cries spurned him on. Hard, relentless thrusts. The wet perfection of her pussy gripped him, urged him to return as soon as he left her.

  He dragged the front of her dress down until it puddled around her middle, and his fingertips dug into her hips as he held her in place to take each thrust. She moved her hands behind her for leverage, pushing up against him. He leaned into her, taking first one nipple, then the other into his mouth.

  With her back bowed and the slap of their bodies echoing in the room, they both raced for that elusive something. He dragged one hand up the middle of her breasts to her shoulders. He gripped the back of her neck and drew her forward until they were flush.

  Him still clothed, her skin against his. He hadn’t even gotten his pants all the way unbuttoned. But the friction seemed to be just what she needed. Her knees came up to his waist and her ankles crossed at the small of his back.

  Face to face, he watched her eyes go opaque and the wordless O of her mouth just before her thighs quaked and her slick walls vised around him. She fell apart in front of him without a word, without a breath, just a tiny, cracking release with his name as her exclamation mark.

  He followed, his hips slamming into her thighs, his orgasm following hers. An echo, a bassline reverb, and finally a duet as he hijacked her shudders and buried his face into her hair. He came so hard his periphery fuzzed and her welcoming warmth was an oasis he’d never hoped to find.

  Thirteen

  Bella dragged in greedy gulps of air. Her skin felt like she’d just held onto a live wire for ten seconds too long. Like she didn’t know that she should have put it down because it would flay each and every nerve ending.

  Logan seemed to be in about the same state. A much more clothed one, but his chest was heaving like hers. And she was pretty sure she was wearing the edge of a trunk buckle on her left ass cheek. Which would match the finger imprints she would be sporting, as well.