Holy fuck.
I’ve never been stung that beautifully before.
I feel it in my bones. It quakes my insides, tenses my muscles as my body tries to work out the delicious pain. Thank fuck the mattress muffles my pathetic whimpers.
I’m a goner.
Gemma lips curve against my skin. “That just made you so wet, rockstar,” she rasps. “Should we add paddling to our list?”
“Hell yes,” I beg.
She brushes her tongue over my entrance and sucks the fabric between her lips, her thumb slipping beneath it to brush over my clit. I shudder at the feeling, almost giddy at the deliberate way she’s touching me.
After another ass slap that brings tears to my eyes, she stands and turns me over. I’m putty in her grasp, entirely giving into whatever plan she has. Her lips land on mine, and I throw my arms around her neck.
Her hands work beneath my ass again before she grabs and pulls me onto her waist. I hook my legs around her waist and hold on, not daring to break from our kiss as she walks us across the room to my kit. Her knees hit the floor, my ass perches on the stool. And as she starts kissing her way down my throat, I reach for the hem of my shirt. It snags on the crash cymbal when I throw it sideways, making it wobble for a beat.
I don’t bother getting it off as she brings my nipple into her mouth and hooks her fingers into the waistband of my shorts.
My fingers entwine in her curls. She drags my shorts off, exposing me to the cool leather stool. I crane my head back, my elbows brushing the snare, head hitting one of the toms behind me.
She’s still teasing my nipples and scratching my sides when she hooks my legs over her shoulder and stretches her finger down my pussy. Chills erupt over my arms. I’m swollen from how many times she’s made me come within the last forty-eight hours, and yet, I’m still just as desperate for her as ever.
I could listen to the noises her mouth makes when she’s licking me all fucking day long.
“Shit, Bonnie,” she mutters as she sinks a finger inside me. “Such an eager little slut tonight.”
“You turn me into a worthless whore,” I grunt.
Her lips curve against my tit. I feel her chin brushing my nipple, and I glance down to find her smiling at me. She adds another finger, making my mouth sag, our eyes lock. That devious glint in her eyes… she knows exactly what she does to me.
“Where are your new drumsticks?” she asks.
My brows narrow. “Drumsticks?”
And then, it hits me why she’s asking.
“Oh.”
Gemma snickers. “Drumsticks, pretty girl. Where are they? New ones. I can’t have you getting an infection.”
“Ah…” My eyes drop to the floor as I try to think. “There are some in my bag.”
She leans down, kisses my pussy, then stands to retrieve them. I lean back and swallow, my heart thudding in my chest.
“Rockstar, you packed toys and didn’t tell me?” she asks as she rifles through my duffle.
I huff amusedly and glance at her over my shoulder. “I always have a vibe in my bag,” I tell her.
Gemma’s quiet feet pad across the space again, lube, drumsticks, and vibe in her hands. I sit up as she sets the supplies on the bookshelf to the left of the kit. Her distractedness gives me time to take her waist into my hands and kiss her stomach. Fuck, she’s solid muscle, and yet the way my fingers crease in her sides makes me whimper. There’s a strap-on with my fucking name on it somewhere out there that I have every intention of using on her from behind. I want to watch her body bounce against my hips, and then let her make me cry after.
The fantasy raises the hair on my neck, and I drag my teeth over her skin.
She pushes her hand in my hair and yanks me back by my scalp, forcing me to look up at her. “Getting greedy, rockstar?”
I lick her again. “Yes.”
She chuckles, and I seize the opportunity to loop my hands in her joggers and pull them down—exposing the lacy panties that I begged her to put on this morning. I bite the waistband and tug as she angles my head up again, and I wonder how desperate I look with this black lace in my mouth.
