was fine with her as long as he didn’t stop touching her.
As usual, he was up for the challenge. She groaned in protest when he moved away and picked up the snare drum, shifting it to his right side. The space in front of her was now open.
“Step forward,” he said when she expected him to haul her down the stairs to their bedroom. “We’re going to try something.”
Always up for one of his experiments, Melanie stepped forward.
“Can you reach the bass drum pedal now?”
She pressed her foot down on a hard pedal, and one of his bass drums thudded.
“Good,” he said. “You control how fast we go.”
She turned her head to look at him, but he pressed a hand in the center of her back and she leaned over the center drum. Was the drum under her elbows called a tom or was it just a bigger snare? She wasn’t sure, but it was probably something the wife of a drummer should know. She heard his pants unzip and the sound of fabric rustling behind her. When the tip of his cock nudged her opening, she gasped and her extended leg tensed, lightly pressing the pedal and producing another soft thud.
“That’s it,” he said, working his way deeper, retreating slightly, going deeper still, until he was buried to the root within her. “Every time you push that pedal, I’m going to thrust.”
“Oh,” she said, a hot flush burning her cheeks. So that was how she was going to control the rhythm.
“I suggest you start out slow,” he said. “Until I get the hang of this.”
His drumstick tapped against the snare to his right, sounding like a typical rock intro, and she stomped the bass pedal. Holding her hip with his left hand and doing a rather impressive one-handed drum roll with his right, he pulled out and thrust into her before retreating slowly. Oh, but she wanted him deep, so she pressed the bass pedal and true to his word, he thrust forward. The motion was a bit awkward at first, because she had to lift her foot several inches before pressing down on the pedal, but it didn’t take her long to use that motion to intensify his pleasure and her own. Soon she was thudding with a steady rhythm, twisting her hips slightly with each downbeat, and he was thrusting in time, filling the pauses with one-handed intricate stick work on the snare. Surprisingly, their drum duet even sounded good—strong and steady.
As her excitement built, so did the rate of her rhythm, until her leg cramped and she had to stop. Oh, but she wasn’t ready for him to stop as he stilled behind her.
“You okay?” he asked, his hand sliding up and down her hip.
“Leg cramp!”
“Happens to the best of us,” he said. “Here, hold my stick.”
She giggled but took the drumstick he held out in front of her and sighed in bliss when his now-free hand began to massage her smarting thigh. “That’s better,” she said.
“You know what I do when I get a cramp in my leg?”
She had no clue, because it wasn’t like he could stop playing in the middle of a song and employ a masseuse to give his leg a rub-down. “What?” she asked.
“Use the other leg.”
“Great suggestion,” she said.
“When in doubt, ask a professional.”
She’d never been with a man who could make her laugh during sex. Well, that wasn’t one hundred percent true. She’d been with one guy who’d made her crack up every time he climbed on top of her, but she’d been laughing at him, not with him. The dude wouldn’t have been able to find an erogenous zone even if flashing neon arrows pointed the way. But Gabe made sex fun. Intimate too. And she couldn’t imagine them ever getting bored inside the bedroom or out. She had a lifetime to look forward to with him.
“Okay,” she said. “I can continue now.”
She bent her arm back to hand him his drumstick, and he tapped out a rhythm on the rim of his snare.
“From the top now.”
And she was giggling again, but she lifted her opposite foot and stopped on a different pedal. The thud it produced was slightly lower in pitch than the original drum. She began to experiment with all three pedals, switching between legs as necessary and working the hard, thrusting cock inside her until she shattered into a million pieces of pure satisfaction. She clung to the drum in front of her and rocked back into Gabe, encouraging him to pound into her as she cried out in bliss. He tossed the drumstick aside and grasped both of her hips, giving her the deep, hard thrusts she craved. Within seconds she pulled him over the edge with her as they moved together to find a few more seconds of ecstasy.
Her legs went all wobbly, and he had to draw her back solidly against his chest to keep her from toppling forward into the drum kit.
The only problem she could see with these adventuresome sexual encounters was that there was never a bed handy for her to collapse upon once they finished.
“So,” Gabe said, kissing her shoulder, “it turns out Force can drum and fuck at the same time, but only with able assistance.”
She laughed, loving him a little more with each passing moment. “That was fun,” she said, “but I really need to lie down. Is it possible to put a bed in every room of the house?”
“We could limit ourselves to the bedroom.”
The sound of his low voice near her ear made her already tantalized nerve endings throb in delight.
“Why would we want to do that?”
He chuckled. “We wouldn’t.”
He pulled out and traces of their joining trickled down her thigh. She didn’t mind until he directed her to his drummer’s stool.
“Rest here for a minute.”
“I’ll get cum all over your seat,” she protested.
“I honestly don’t care,” he said with an ornery smirk.
Looking up at him, she was reminded that he’d shaved his head and looked every inch the hardcore metal drummer. “I thought you were going to let your hair grow out,” she said.
“Momentary lapse of judgment,” he said, running a hand over the smooth skin tattooed with a wicked-looking dragon tribal design.
“For the record, you look sexy that way,” she said, and licked her lips.
He knelt between her knees and stared up into her eyes. “Don’t tell me you get the hots for rock stars now.”
“Just you,” she said, resting her arms on his shoulders and linking her hands behind his neck.
“Let’s keep it that way.”
The sound of the front door creaking open was followed by happy-dog whimpering and the excited scrape of dog nails across the floor.
“Honeys, I’m home,” Nikki called into the house.
Melanie’s eyes widened, and she dropped down off the stool, unsure if she was visible through the loft railing from the ground floor. She crawled toward her discarded underwear and lay flat on the floor to pull them on. Her first stop would be the bathroom as soon as she was decent enough to face her friend. She needed to clean up as well as take a whiz on a pregnancy test stick.
“Where are you guys?” Nikki’s voice carried from down below. “Are you two going at it on the Sex Stallion again? Now is not the time to make more changes to the design, you know.”
“No,” Gabe called, his pants securely in place. He leaned up against the railing and peered down into the great room below. “We were up here playing drums.”
“Oh, really?” Nikki said, her footsteps approaching the bottom of the wooden staircase. “Sorry I missed it.”
“We were also fucking, so you weren’t invited,” Gabe said.
“Gabe!” Melanie hissed, squirming into her pants. Nikki hadn’t had sex in almost a month, so they tried not to talk about it in front of her.
“Sorry I missed that too,” Nikki said, her voice now even with the floor where Melanie was busy fastening her jeans.
Melanie rolled over and still lying on the floor, smiled at Nikki. “Did you find a dress for the party?”
“Heads are going to turn,” Nikki said with a self-satisfied grin. “Wish you had come with me.”
“Too much to do
at the office today,” Melanie said. The first units were being shipped out on Monday, and they needed everything to align without foreseeable problems.
“Like what?” Nikki teased. “Screwing your boss?”
“Business partner,” Gabe corrected. “However, I do say she needs to leave a few business matters to the manager she hired so she’ll have time to engage in more screwing with her partner.”
“I’m just worried that something will go wrong with the first shipments,” Melanie said.
“And if something does, you’ll fix it. Fixing problems is what you do best,” Gabe said.
Which reminded her of yet another problem she needed to fix.
“I need to go to the bathroom,” she said. “What are we making for dinner?”
The three of them had gotten into a routine of cooking together. Melanie was glad Gabe’s kitchen was large enough for them to spend that time together, though Gabe often manned the grill on the back deck while Nikki cut up fresh veggies and Melanie cooked side dishes on the six-burner gas stove she so adored.
“Grilled chicken,” Nikki said.
Gabe headed toward the narrow loft stairs. “I’ll start the grill.”
“I’ll be in to help soon,” Melanie said as she followed Gabe down the steps. Her legs were still weak, so she clung to the railing as she descended. She grabbed her purse and cellphone before she headed for the master bathroom, locking the door behind her. She started by texting Caitlyn.
How are the party plans going? Need any help?
While she waited for a response, she stripped off her panties so she could wash up. The last thing she needed was a damned UTI. She needed to pee too, but had some instructions to read first.
Caitlyn responded with All set and the thumbs-up emoji.
Now that Melanie had her attention, she texted: Do you happen to have Jacob Silverton’s number?
I don’t think so. Why don’t you get it from Gabe?
I don’t want Gabe to know I’m contacting him.
Interesting. Caitlyn had punctuated that single word with a smirking emoji.
Melanie cringed, not wanting Caitlyn to know her reason for contacting Jacob, but better Caitlyn know than Gabe. An instant later, a second message from Caitlyn came through.
I’ll ask Owen for Jacob’s number. Just a minute.
Once Melanie had Jacob’s number, she sat on the edge of the tub, took a deep breath, and dialed him. This plan had better work. Her pregnancy test would just have to wait.
Chapter Seventeen
Gabe decided that waiting for two women to get ready for a party was an exercise in unlimited patience. Melanie’s hair wasn’t cooperating. Nikki didn’t like the way her bra made her boobs look in her new red dress. Melanie decided her pink dress clashed with Nikki’s outfit, so she changed to a black dress, which meant also changing shoes and accessories to match. They’d almost made it to the car when Melanie realized that she’d forgotten to switch to a different handbag. As far as Gabe was concerned, her little pink purse looked fine with her curve-hugging black dress. Not a soul on the planet would notice her purse when she was wearing that dress. But she insisted, so they waited.
By the time they reached the party, almost everyone had already arrived. Seeing as Owen’s house wasn’t all that large, most of the guests had congregated in the back yard. As Gabe, with a case of beer under one arm, followed the ladies—each carrying a dish to share with the crowd—he smiled to himself, no longer perturbed by their tardiness. They both looked smashingly gorgeous as they happily chatted about Nikki’s new high heels poking into the sod. Of the pair of beauties, he happened to prefer the leggy brunette and her waist-length wavy hair, but he had a soft spot for her flirty best friend, who he now considered one of his best friends as well.
“Oh, bride and groom number two are finally here,” Dawn shouted, clapping enthusiastically, which encouraged a round of cheers. The tall, elegant redhead waved them toward the back yard. Did that mean Kellen was there? Had he and Owen finally made up? Last he’d heard, they were still avoiding each other.
As Gabe rounded the corner, he popped up on his toes to scan the crowd. There were benefits to being the tallest man present. He spotted Kellen by the lanai, talking to Sally. Gabe wondered why their well-endowed stage manager was even talking to any of them. The band—or rather, Jacob—had unexpectedly put her and the rest of their regular touring crew out of a job. Maybe the crew could at least collect unemployment checks. He certainly hoped so. Gabe wasn’t sure how that worked.
Other members of their road crew were present as well, and they seemed to be getting along fine with each other. They even greeted Gabe as he passed with the beer he intended to add to the huge tubs of ice on the patio. He was slapped on the back and congratulated more times than he could count. Melanie abandoned Nikki to a pack of anxious male admirers and stood at Gabe’s side. He was filled with both pride and wonder that he’d managed to score such a prize. He spotted his parents and Leslie and sent them a friendly wave to gain their attention. But before he could cross the lawn to offer them a proper hello, Tex caught his arm. He hadn’t seen the band’s bus driver since the night Jacob had walked out on them. Speaking of Jacob . . . A quick scan of the crowd told Gabe he wasn’t there. Or maybe he was in the house, because Owen was nowhere to be seen either. Nor was Adam in the yard, though Madison and her enormous cast were easy to spot on a lounge chair beneath a shade tree.
“How’ve you been?” Tex asked, drawing Gabe’s attention back to himself. “Can’t believe you managed to hook this little hottie.”
Tex poked Melanie in the side, and she squeaked in protest.
“He has a very tempting hook,” Melanie said with a smile. She squeezed Gabe’s hand and leaned against his arm. “For the most part: maggot-less.”
Gabe snorted, but based on the baffled stare Tex sent in her direction, he obviously didn’t get her inside joke.
“Have you seen Lindsey?” Tex asked. “That girl is about to pop. Sure glad that kid ain’t mine.” Tex raised his eyebrows at Gabe, his question clear.
“I’m sure your wife is glad to hear that as well.”
Tex glanced over his shoulder. Said wife was talking to their youngest roadie, Jordan, who kept looking around as if he needed an escape plan.
“She don’t know nothing about that business,” Tex said. “No reason to tell her.”
Melanie frowned at him.
“So I’m guessing since she . . .” Tex jerked his head in Melanie’s direction. “. . . agreed to marry you, the kid ain’t yours neither.”
“I’d have married him regardless,” Melanie said, standing up to her full height and squeezing Gabe’s hand even harder.
“Is it yours?” Tex asked Gabe, no longer beating around the bush.
“It’s not mine.”
“Whose then?” he asked. “The DNA lady wouldn’t tell me shit. Just my own results.”
“Same here.”
“But the guys must have told you.”
Gabe shook his head. “No one has said anything to me,” he said. “And I’m not rude enough to ask.”
Gabe’s intentional barb took a moment to sink through Tex’s rather thick skull.
“I didn’t mean to be rude or nothing.” He slapped Gabe on the back hard enough to make him step forward. “Well, congratulations on your upcoming wedding. Couldn’t have happened to a greater guy. She’s a sweet-looking gal.”
Melanie prickled, but managed to keep her thoughts to herself.
“Thanks, Tex,” Gabe said, slapping the guy on the back twice as hard as he’d been slapped. The blow was sure to leave a mark. “We should be sending out invitations soon.”
“Am I invited?”
“Of course. Any guy in the band knows better than to get on your bad side. You have too much blackmail material on all of us.”
Tex guffawed. “You ain’t lying. You’ve got plenty on me as well.” He shook Gabe’s hand. “I’ll let you get back to your pa
rty.” He lowered his voice to a whisper to say, “So glad you and me is off the hook with that brat.”
Melanie drew in a breath, and Gabe knew she was about to give Tex an earful, so Gabe turned to face her, giving Tex a moment to move away. “He’s a little rough, but he means well,” Gabe said. “And you really should be glad Lindsey’s baby isn’t his.”
Melanie blew out her breath and nodded. “I am definitely glad for that.”
“I wonder where Adam and Owen are,” he said, scanning the crowd again. His parents were now talking to Adam’s loser of a dad, a conversation Gabe didn’t want to get in the middle of. He found a safer location to hang out near the lanai. “Let’s go say hey to