Author: Olivia Cunning

“They used to. I think a lot of schools are cutting their music programs for lack of funds.”

Eric made a mental note to check on the programs at local schools and offer a huge donation of musical instruments if they needed them. “I don’t think I’d be alive today if it weren’t for those programs.”

“So music was the only constant in your life?”

He contemplated her question. “Yeah, I guess so. Even now, with Sinners.”

She reached up to touch his face. He expected pity when he looked into her eyes, but saw only tenderness. “I want to be a constant in your life, Eric.”

“Are you sure?” He grinned. “I’m kind of a pain in the ass.”

“I don’t think so. Everything you’ve ever done to my ass has felt really good.”

He laughed. Rebekah accepted him. His past. Relief hit him suddenly, and he laughed some more. Eric fell off the piano bench, gripping his stomach with both arms, and tried to catch his breath between laughs. Eventually, he rolled onto his back and looked at the tray ceiling. “This house is pretty ridiculous, isn’t it?”

Rebekah climbed off the bench, snuggled against his side, and laid her head on his heaving chest. “No. It fills a hole inside you. And the car does too. Are you sure you want to finish fixing it?”

“Of course. I can’t wait to see you covered with grease.”

“It won’t make you sad to see it complete?”

“Maybe a little, but that’s where the Camaro comes in.”

“And after that?”

“You pick our next project.”

“I want you to meet my parents,” she said unexpectedly.

Eric’s heart skipped several beats. “That’s a bad idea, Reb. Parents don’t like me. Not even my own.”

“You’re important to me, Eric. I want to show you off.”

“Trying to get back at your father for repressing you as a teen?” he teased.

“Well, my dad is a minister, but he’s never been repressive. My mother, on the other hand…” She laughed. “That’s not why though. I love you, and I want them to love you too.”

Was she seriously offering the one thing he thought he’d never have? A family?

“Okay,” he said.

“Yeah?”

He nodded.

“What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Nothing that I know of.” Thanksgiving was a week away. It would give him time to get used to the idea of meeting her parents. Between now and then, Reb could teach him which fork he was supposed to use for salad.

“We always get together and help serve at the local homeless shelter before our family dinner. Will you come?”

He smiled. He actually enjoyed doing community service. He’d gotten into enough trouble as a youth that it had been required of him several times. Even though he kept out of trouble most of the time in his old age, he still liked to help.

“Sounds fun.”

“We’ll stop by the shelter and sign up tomorrow.”

“I should sign up the guys too. I’m sure they aren’t doing anything important for Thanksgiving.” And they could protect him from Rebekah’s parents, if necessary.

“Perfect. I’ll call my mom right now and let her know we’ll be over for dinner.”

She took her cell phone out of her pocket and dialed her parent’s house.

“Dave!” she said when someone picked up on the other end. “How are you?”

Eric could hear a bit of Dave’s voice, but not his words. “I can’t wait to see you,” she said. “Can you let Mom know I’ll be over for dinner Saturday evening?”

Eric stiffened. Saturday? Saturday wasn’t Thanksgiving.

“Yeah, and tell her I’m bringing someone special.” She paused. “Yeah, it’s a guy. No, I’m not telling you who. You’ll have to wait and see.”

She shifted her body to hold Eric down when he tried to get up.

“I’ve got to go. Don’t forget to tell Mom.” She paused. “I love you too.”

“Saturday?” Eric said. “I thought I was going to meet them on Thanksgiving.”

“You’ll see them again on Thanksgiving. You’ll probably see a lot of them. They’re my family, and you’re my guy.”

Oh no, she was using that smile he couldn’t resist. Stick to your guns, Eric. You can do it. Tell her you’re busy Saturday. “I’ve got stuff… to do… on Saturday.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“Work on the car!” he said as he fabricated his excuse.

“We’ll work on the car tonight and tomorrow. Eric, this is important. Please say you’ll come with me.”

He sighed heavily. “Okay. I’ll go. But I’m warning you again. Parents do not like me.”

“Doesn’t matter. I like you.”

She smiled and slid up his body to kiss him. Soon her tender kiss turned deep and passionate. “Did you bring any costumes in the house?”

“Just the rock star one.”

Her breath caught, and he could practically see her inventing a naughty scenario. Dear lord, he loved this woman. He’d never let anything take her away from him.

“Will you play your drums for me?” she asked.

“Why?” He chuckled. “You hear me play them practically every night.”

“Yeah, from the middle of a stadium as part of my job. I want to show you what I want to do to you when you’re onstage playing before a crowd of thousands.”

“You want to do stuff to me when I’m onstage?” He shifted his head to look at her.

“You’re not the only one with fantasies, you know.”

“Tell me.”

“How about you start playing and I’ll show you.”

As if he could say no to that. He climbed to his feet and sat behind his ancient drum kit. The one he’d found in a junkyard in the eighth grade and hid in an abandoned warehouse because his foster family at the time had insisted rock ’n’ roll was the devil’s music. He hadn’t lasted long in that house, but he’d held onto the drums for over fourteen years.

“Did you say your dad was a minister?” Eric reached for his drumsticks.

“You did not just ask me about my dad when I’m thinking about jumping your bones, did you?”

He glanced over his shoulder sheepishly to find her scowling. “Sorry.”

“Yes, he’s a minister.”

Eric cringed.

Rebekah lifted an eyebrow. “You better start looking sexy, or I’m going in the garage to start tearing an engine apart.”

He shed his leather vest and peeled off his white T-shirt. “How’s that?”

“It’s a start.”

He found the bass drum pedal with one foot and the high-hat pedal with his other. It had been awhile since he’d only used one bass drum. He used three when he played onstage. “What should I play?”

“Something slow and sexy.”

“You know I don’t do slow, sweetheart.”

“Try.”

Since there was only one Sinners’ song that was remotely slow, their ballad “Goodbye Is Not Forever,” he started with that. When Rebekah pressed against his back and let her hands roam over his chest and belly, he closed his eyes and concentrated on the mixture of rhythm and sensation. He soon abandoned the song and let her touch dictate how he thumped the bass, tapped his cymbals, hit the snare, or followed a progression around the various tom-toms in his kit. He usually wailed on the skins as hard as possible, but he kept his pounding to a minimum so it wasn’t uncomfortably loud. Just rhythmic.

Sensual.

Rebekah’s lips pressed against his shoulder. She kissed a path to his ear, matching his tempo with each sucking press of her lips.

Eric shuddered. Mixing his three loves—music, sex, and this woman—stole his ability to think beyond the moment. The rhythm consumed him. He allowed it to rule his current existence.

Rebekah’s fingers found the tiny hoop in his left nipple. She rubbed her thumb over it, tugging it gently with the beat he set.

His cock began to rise, hardening in pulsations that matched the rhythm. When Rebekah drew away, he gasped in protest.

Her T-shirt landed on one cymbal, her bra on his cowbell. Then she was against his back again, the hardened tips of her naked breasts pressing into his flesh. She rocked against him, rubbing her nipples into his back. “I love the tattoo on your back,” she said.

She probably wouldn’t if she knew what the fiery crack in the earth and the demon hand emerging from it symbolized.

Her lips returned to his neck. Her left thumb to his piercing. Her right hand slid south. She released the top button of his fly on one beat, the next button on the next beat. When his fly was open, she slid her hand into his underwear and freed his cock.

He’d already lost himself to the beat, didn’t think it was possible to feel it more than he already did, but her hand circled him and began to move along his length. Up on one beat, down on the next. There wasn’t a solitary cell in his body that wasn’t consumed by the rhythm.

“Rebekah,” he gasped.

“Shhhhh. Just feel it. What your rhythm does to me. What I want to do to you every time you play.”

Man, he would never play without a boner again.

He increased his tempo slightly, so she’d stroke his cock faster. She followed his lead without hesitation.

Faster.

Faster.

Oh. She moved away abruptly, and his entire body shuddered with unfulfilled desire. He heard her release the zipper of her jeans behind him and the rustle of fabric as she removed the rest of her clothes. He turned his head when she appeared beside him and stumbled over a beat. She ducked under his arm and climbed over one leg to stand before him, beautiful and naked.

He slowed his tempo again and stared into her eyes, wondering what she’d do next. Knowing no matter what it was, he would like it. Her fingers slid into his hair, and she tugged him to her breast. He latched on with his mouth and sucked in time with the beat.

“That’s it,” she whispered. She released his hair and lowered her hands, her fingertips resting against the head of his cock. When she tapped her fingers against his sensitive flesh, his belly tightened with excitement.

“Mmm.” He sucked harder on her nipple.

He released her nipple and looked at her, his eyelids heavy, his breathing ragged. She bent and grabbed his shaft in both hands. Her thumbs bumped over the rim repeatedly, still keeping time with his beat.

“I want you inside me, Eric Sticks.”

“What are you waiting for?” he murmured.

“Can you keep your balance?”

He grinned. “Only one way to find out.”

He paused in his drumming while she climbed onto his lap, facing him. She wrapped both arms around his neck and kissed him hungrily. He shifted his, drumsticks to one hand and then grabbed his cock to seek her slick heat. When he found her, she sank down, taking him deep. He wobbled on the little stool, then tightened the muscles of his thighs, back, and stomach to maintain balance. Good thing he was in great shape from all that drumming, or he wouldn’t have been able to hold his position. He shifted forward on his stool a few inches, and she sank deeper.

They gasped into each other’s mouths.

His jeans cut into his flesh, but somehow, that discomfort made him crave the pleasure offered by her body all the more.

Rebekah deepened her kiss, her fingers digging into his scalp. Feet on the floor, she began to rise and fall over him.

His toe found his bass drum pedal, and he matched her rhythm with a low, steady beat. Instead of hammering out a beat with his arms, he wrapped them around her, drumsticks caught in his fist against her back.